TDWP & 101D: The Lady and Her Dragons
by bearblue
Summary: Inclement weather and a case of the flu result in big changes and big revelations. Andrea Sachs finds out her universe is more magical and larger than she ever thought and some things are not what they seem.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Lady and Her Dragons  
Pairing: **(Poly/Multiple) Miranda / Andy / Cruella**  
Rating: M, NC17, NSFW  
Summary:** Inclement weather and a case of the flu result in big changes and big revelations. Andrea Sachs finds out her universe is more magical and larger than she ever thought and some things are not what they seem.

Words:

Current Status is**BETA AND UNFINISHED!**

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction, which pretty well guarantees that " ownership, " of the some of the characters belongs to others (Lauren Weisberger and 202022th Century Fox) and and that this work is entirely based on affection. This is not-for-profit, but for praise or at least enjoyment.  
**  
Beta Readers:** Thank yous go to - Melanacious, LadyDragonstorm, Shesgottaread, Llachlan and Bonnie - my extraordinary friends.

**A/N** -This is a "get 'em together" story.

**A/N - **This fiction likely draws from several sources for inspiration - it mostly follows TDWP movie canon as a starting point, however. It is set one year after Paris.**  
A/N -** I hereby label this story AU. It is a fantasy universe with magic, lots and lots of unmistakable magic *stamp*** AU** *endstamp***  
A/N - **This story may involve appendages and physical transformations and happy bits connecting. If phallai offend, perhaps this story is not for you. *stamp* **CRACKFIC** *endstamp***  
A/N -** Plural/Poly relationships happen to be one of my favorite playgrounds. This fiction enters that territory and really gets digging in it. *stamp* **POLYAMORY** *endstamp***  
A/N -** This story has Dragons. Beware the Dragons. *stamp* **MAYHEM**! *endstamp***  
A/N -** I have decided, just for my sanity, that family and really good friend names shall remain generally consistent. Thus, Andy's father's is Richard and her mother is CeCe, etc. This will go for Miranda's family if they ever reveal themselves. The family rule, shall remain consistent across the DWP stories. Though you may see them behaving differently according to their different realities, I shall make some effort to keep characterizations consistent also.**  
A/N -** This story has has big dollops of angst, but it ends well.**  
A/N - **This story started because of Melanacious' "Between Two Devils," who introduced a third and most unexpectedly delightful option. I started writing Prada fic because of her. You might thank her for the On a... series, because, technically, she started it...

LJ Tags: all:

fiction, user: bearblue, rating: nc-17, pairing: andy/miranda, pairing: miranda/andy/cruella, pairing: polyamory, status: incomplete, genre: romance

TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Chapter 1

Inspiration spacesaver:

Song: Black and Gold - Sam Sparrow  
watch?v=eHuebHTD-lY

Imzadi's The Lady and Her Dragons Video:  
watch?v=sF-wbkRln1I (wow!)

- TDWP -

The sky loomed ; menaced. Dark gray clouds piled high and deep, hid the brighter ice-blue sky from view. Frigid bursts of wind strongly brought the awareness that inclement weather, the kind that had forecasters scrambling to warn everyone about the need to stay indoors, and forced the moisture in the air to become instant swirling puffs of snow, was here. It was only going to get worse. Grocery and convenience stores were packed with last minute shoppers seeking supplies in preparation for the onslaught. Pedestrians and cars hurried. People wanted to go home before it really hit. Past years ' winter storms were slated to be eclipsed by this year's blizzard.

Andrea Sachs, Andy to her friends, was a tall, limber, curvaceous in all the right places, brown-haired, brown-eyed, well-educated journalist from Ohio. She had been working for The New York Mirror for nearly a year and freelanced with other magazines and papers to supplement her income. She had cut short previous employment with a famous fashion magazine, Runway, the experience from which she had profited. The severance had been absolutely necessary, if somewhat unprofessional. She took no pride in leaving the way that she had, though she knew there were some who took pleasure in the event and others who hated her. It was odd to be modestly famous for leaving a work environment successfully and abruptly, but the circumstances had been unique. One did not just quit Runway and expect to have a job in publishing after. However, for once, the Dragon Miranda had let one go. She had even provided a backhanded recommendation. This did not change the fact the decision Andrea made was one she still experienced deep angst over, and ultimately the reasons for her quitting were private and not something she spoke about.

Andrea had lived through snow storms before. Cincinnati was not exactly immune to blizzardly events. However, she had never been through one in the Big Apple and had really been looking forward to the experience. The young woman happened to really like winter . It was cool and always distinct from other seasons, with a chance for adventure and awesome holidays. Actually she liked all the seasons, most days. She was just that kind of person.

Today, however,her joy in nature's power was not its usual enthralling encounter. Her normal zest for life, already a little less zestful due to those past events, was hampered further by an urgent desire to lay down and curl up into a ball of misery. She had been ignoring that desire since she awakened feeling a little too warm and achy, with the added non-benefit of a headache and the dread beginnings of a scratchy throat. Over the past year she had mastered the means of "being happy anyway," despite other emotional pressures. It had been a necessity. Though she definitely had lingering feelings, going to work was one of her means of coping. It did not matter that she might not be processing well enough to adequately determine whether it was a good idea in the first place. Some things simply needed doing.

Andrea went through a litany of defensive wellness thoughts, taught to her by a mother who believed in the power of affirmations, and then swallowed a handful of over-the-counter remedies in the hopes that any sense of illness was a passing thing. However, in her job she came into contact with a lot of different people in various states of well-being and she knew it was entirely possible that a random cough from a random stranger might have taken her down. "Good thoughts, Andy. Healthy thoughts," she said to the mirror while she applied her makeup. The words helped boost her mood, but the makeup did more to disguise the fatigue.

She caught a cab instead of taking her usual subway ride. She did not feel like dealing with the stress of crowds and thought the longer underground trip might blur her thinking too much. She might not feel on top, but she did want to do her best, even if she did feel a little ickier than normal. It was worth the money to ensure it.

At work she had managed to smile at her coworkers while avoiding the usual chitchat and had gotten straight to business. The article she worked on was taking on a slow, but cohesive shape and she thought that she might be able actually make it through. Maybe. As the morning progressed she could feel herself becoming warmer and her eyes had begun to start to burn in that certain way. Worse, the small breakfast she had managed to choke down was disagreeing with her. She glanced at the time and bulled on stubbornly, even though her focus was clearly shot. Andrea figured that she might check the weather soon and perhaps see if she could go home a little early.

Her boss, Mr. Greg Hill, a very nice, if harried man, passed by her desk on some errand and glanced in her direction. He paused a moment, took a little longer to assess and said, " Andy, you look green. " He then gazed around the office. People had been calling in or leaving early the whole morning. He glanced at a window, noting the clouds were even darker and heavier than before. " I think you ought to head home. "

"But the article. It's coming due and I finally have most of the pieces. All of them, I think. It won't take long. " Actually, she probably should have said, ' It shouldn't be taking this long. ' The pace of her work today had been abysmal, comparatively speaking. A spasm of memory expanded the thought to ' ...glacial, ' and her lips had quirked in humor, despite herself. She could even remember the tone of voice. She did not have a chance to linger in the memory, a good thing given past experience when memories of a certain ex-boss intruded, before the editor replied.

"I applaud your work ethic, however, that can be written at home. If you must. But..." his voice had trailed off. Then he smiled. "I have to be here, and you don't. The project you're working on isn't going away and you don't look like yourself. Besides, no one wants to share what you might have right now. Let's change the due date to a week from now. Just to be sure."

"I might not have anything. It could have been something I ate. " Even as she said the words she knew she sounded more raspy than normal and she swallowed against mild pain. The analgesic had worn off and she had yet to take another dose. She had been waiting to eat, but now the thought of food was entirely unappealing.

He smiled kindly, " Uh-huh. Go on, Andy. Pack it up. Take it home. " He then grinned a little more. " In fact, as soon as you are in the elevator, I'm wiping everything down. "

"Gee. Thanks. I'm medicated to my eyeballs. I'm not drippy or anything. " Then she sniffled. " Crap. "

"Go home. "

- TDWP -

Timing is everything. Getting the timing of her endeavors perfect was something that Miranda Priestly had, for the most part, mastered ; timing in revenge, timing in publishing, timing in fashion. She could not claim perfect timing in love, but she did try. It simply did not ever work out quite the way she planned - or hoped. The divorce, now final and forever, had been almost painless once it was done.

Miranda was famous for several reasons. She was a fashion icon ; known to be demanding, possessing a keen perception, and hyper-intelligent. Her magazine was one of the foremost, her office in Elias-Clark one of the most important. Worlds and lives moved at her whim. She was gorgeous, unique enough to stand out from the crowd, tall enough to be above average, and shapely. She wore clothes tailored and designed just for her, sometimes bleeding edge, but most often leaning towards classic with her own distinctive style. Her blue eyes were known for their infinite shades, her mouth for its revelation of mood or opinion. Her hair was almost as famous as she was, white-silver, glimmering and healthy, styled short for efficiency, but not too short. She had been born with hair so white it glinted gold and silver in the right light, but once she hit thirty, she dyed it to make it appear as if she had silvered early. It had been an effective trick and she kept the look, taking advantage of the authority it seemed to immediately generate upon others in her proximity. As no one ever asked the how or the why it happened, she did not illuminate.

Someone had once joked that the cause had been her children. Miranda Priestly, not one to be trifled with at any time, had earned the sobriquet Dragon Lady for a reason. It was only common sense that her children were out-of-bounds for the media. That person, no longer involved in any form of publishing, now worked at some strip-mall in a small town in a state very far from New York.

The combination of power and beauty was an intoxicant to many, as evidenced by love affairs and two marriages. Perhaps the knowledge that she could conjure a lover to her side, almost at will, did ease some heartache. It was not a panacea. Few resisted her. Fewer still dared bridge the gap between her professional and personal life ; which was just the way Miranda liked it. She had allies. Yes. But also friends, though some might not believe it. They were select and treasured . Right now she was missing one of her friends mightily.

It was not the first time she wished she could simply call Nigel, who at least understood her vision. He, however, had moved on to bigger and better things and was doing well. She did not wish to bother him with her petty problems just yet. She did not begrudge him. They had worked out the aftermath of Paris quickly. He trusted her to make it right and she had. She wished others had that kind of trust.

With a sniff of disdain, Miranda glanced down at the so far meager offerings for a future edition of her magazine and scowled carefully, beautifully. While there was still time to generate good ideas, it was no excuse for her art department to slack. She expected better. More.

She was very aware that they were currently short-staffed, due to the weather, but honestly. Who expected her to accept this tripe? Fortunately, she had yet to send away the new girl. " Emily, you will come take this atrocity off of my desk and return it to the art department. Find whoever is still there and tell them to improve this by noon tomorrow. I will accept an electronic edition, given the circumstances. That's all. "

The model-thin, youthful blond who scurried into Miranda's office upon her summons bore little resemblance to a certain previous employee, which had been a deliberate choice on the editor-in-chief's part. Miranda had been through five other assistants, also vastly different and infinitely more incompetent, before finally settling on this one. No one had exactly filled the position as perfectly, but Marie had become passable at doing her job and was almost at the point of hearing her name fall from Miranda's lips ; not quite yet, but soon. If things went well. The real Emily was already safely away, no doubt snuggling with Serena at their abode . Leaving early was one of the perks of being the longer-term employee.

Marie snatched the mock-ups off of Miranda's desk, started to leave the office, then hesitated.

"What?" Miranda snapped.

"The phone...," the assistant's voice trailed off without quite hitting the pitch of a whine.

Miranda lifted a hand, vaguely waving. She looked up at Marie, who still hesitated. Miranda tilted her glasses down and gazed at the young woman as if she were an imbecile. " I will handle it until such time as you return. " Then her lips thinned in warning. " Return quickly. "

Marie barely avoided a curtsy, instead wandering into a bobble of motion that might have been a bow if it had been executed properly, before hastily exiting. Miranda shook her head and picked up the next item to be dealt with. She turned in her seat, glancing out the window at the gathering storm, gauging . She had no desire to be stuck in the office and would leave very soon, she thought. She glanced down at yet another memo from accounting detailing current budget status and began plotting her next move. Despite tiresome complaints from Irv, she did, in fact, make the attempt to stay within the preferred amount, but art was art and fashion was fashion. Some things were worth the price.

The phone rang. Miranda turned herself toward her desk and arched a brow, considering whether she really wanted to answer the insistent summons or not. It was, after all, her option. Then it occurred to her that one of her daughters or their school might be trying to contact her. Cara was supposed to pick them up before the onslaught, but one never knew. She lifted the handset.

"Miranda Priestly. "

She was greeted by a long pause and thought she detected a faint swallow and a clearing of the throat. The only reason Miranda did not demand an answer today, was that she did not know to whom she might be speaking. It did not do to unnecessarily offend. On the other hand...

Before she could really get a head of steam going about the matter, a reply was finally forthcoming, if a touch raspy.

"Nelson, from International Elegance, is on the line and I couldn't figure out how to flash this damn thing forward. Then I remembered I don't have flash forward on my cell phone."

Miranda straightened in her chair and spoke in disbelief, " Andrea ?" The casualness of the introduction was not so much a shock as the person to whom she thought she was speaking. Andrea's calls, if there had ever been any, never got through.

"Yeah." Another pause and swallow stalled the discussion.

"Perhaps, " Miranda said, " there might be an effort to explain." Yes. Please do explain. So much had been left unsaid.

However, there was no explanation forthcoming ; just a sigh and a fitful, " Conference call for Miranda Priestly. You all go on and talk. Try not to lose the connection. I'm gonna lay back down now. " Miranda heard the sound of a semi-metallic object being placed on a solid surface, the squeak of springs and rustling of covers followed by another sigh.

"Well, " Miranda murmured softly.

"Sorry to inconvenience your girl, Miranda," said Nelson genially. A frisson traveled up Miranda's spine and she felt breathless for a moment. Nelson was oblivious, caught up in the conversation he thought he was having, "... but I'm in the forsaken wilderness and hers was the only working number my assistant could come up with. You know me, adventuring where others fear to tread. I think you'll find it a good thing."

"Mm. At least you got through, " Miranda offered pleasantly as she worked to immediately pull her senses and responses in line. She was a master at doing so, but still was supremely glad that no one had been near her office to witness her earlier astonishment.

"No doubt. Anyhow, I'm calling because I have just enlisted a new designer on our staff, a lovely Londoner with such an interesting vision. A young lady named Anita, and I wanted to get your opinion."

Miranda arched her brow. "London is hardly the wilderness."

"Ah, I did not say I found her in London. You see, we're in South America right now. Caught her on her honeymoon. Recently divorced, if you will, from another design firm. You might have heard of it. House of De Vil."

Miranda's eyebrows rose to new heights. "House of De Vil!" An unbidden snarl curled her lip. She had had previous encounters, none-too-friendly, with House De Vil. Their prince was no one she liked, but she faked a smile for social niceties sake. It had been awhile, but this was one stone of payment to be rendered she still carried in her heart.

"Yes, well, apparently there was a small falling out with her old boss. We all know how that is, heh. I've been on the sharp end with DeVil, ouch. But I hate to see young talent go to waste. She can't work in England right now. We do have a subsidiary in France we can use, but lately I've really wanted to focus more on the Americas. I was thinking, perhaps, you might have some words of wisdom."

"Perhaps. Carry on."

"Excellent..." Miranda listened as Nelson began talking, taking in everything he was saying. She was also, however, listening to other, more subtle noises ; the sound of muffled coughing, a soft groan, a shift of covers, as if someone were trying to settle comfortably. Miranda's hearing was always acute, but she was attuned to such noises because she had experience with her daughters. She understood immediately Andrea's choices and wondered at the bravery it took to call the Dragon anyway.

Nelson was a man of ideas and they spilled out of him like gold from a pot, so Miranda did not cut him off as she first intended. She so missed that kind of discussion. The conversation extended long enough for Marie to return and take other calls in the meantime. It was also long enough for the soft sound of Andrea's very light and rhythmical snore to counterpoint Nelson's exuberance. Miranda turned to look at the dismal clouds and listened patiently, knowing that he would eventually wind down. Then, when it seemed time, she said, " All, excellent points, Nelson," proving she had been paying attention, "Regarding your Anita, send me samples, digital and physical. I wish to see this new artist's work. I will then be able to give you a more informed idea as to the best launching ground. If she is as good as you say, we shall ensure that House of De Vil won't lay a finger on her."

"Excellent. Will get it to you. Hey, thank... what was it... "

"Andrea. "

"Yeah, thank Andrea for me. I'd heard rumors you two had a falling out, but obviously you've kissed and made up. Which is excellent timing for me. She was a lifesaver. At least my assistant thinks so. I'll make sure Mona sends her something nice to make up for the call. "

"That won't be necessary... "

"Oh, I already know you'll cover the cost. Least you can do for international shouts, eh. This has nothing to do with necessary, just a gesture so she'll take my call again when I need to get a hold of you. I mean, she's obviously dying and unlike everyone else, her call went straight to you and not your gatekeepers. I can't remember a time when that's happened. So, naturally this means she's a keeper. Gotta take care of your lady, eh. " Nelson chuckled on the other end, which Miranda immediately translated it as an awareness. He had meant what he said earlier. He thought Andrea was her girl. Not her child. Not her assistant.

Her girl.

Her lady.

No doubt he would praise his assistant for her connections...

Miranda tried to think of a way to correct the impression, but Nelson was carrying on as usual. " Tell Andrea I said to get better. See you later. "

The phone on his end clicked off. Miranda could still hear Andrea in the background, sleeping. She listened for a few moments more, considering. Then she turned and laid the handset gently in the cradle.

"Emily, " she said, with her usual imperiousness, " Get me Roy. "

- TDWP -

The chauffeur had been one of Miranda's constants ; loyal, reliable through almost all things, especially bad weather. He navigated through cities and countries as if he were born to it ; no doubt with the help of GPS, but also with abundant natural skill and talent. It was something Miranda appreciated about him. They arrived in good time, always. The Mercedes slid gracefully to a stop just outside a grey-stone apartment building. It was beginning to snow in earnest.

He glanced at her from the rear-view mirror, not quite waiting. He had been there during the devastation, had known a little of the private cost of Andrea's leave-taking. He did not say, ' Are you sure. ' Though Miranda could tell he wanted to.

She nodded once, but made no other motion. Someone had to stay with the vehicle.

- TDWP -

Roy made his way to the building, planning strategies for entering, since he doubted Andy would simply let him in. Then he realized he had stepped into mild chaos. People were coming in and out of the apartment building in haste. He only had to step through before the door closed. He had expected it to be warmer.

Something in his expression must have indicated his thoughts, as a passerby said, with no little disgust, " Heater's down. They say a couple of hours. But who really knows with this weather. I'm off to get me some space heaters and a ton of blankets. You probably ought to get some too. Just in case "

Roy tapped his hat, acknowledging the tip, grateful to be mistaken for just another bloke. He hoped Miranda was alright, but he had left the engine on and locked the doors. He had a key. She could defend herself if she needed. She, of all people, knew life was sometimes uncivilized.

He hurried to the elevator and hoped that, at least, was working.

- TDWP -

Andrea forced herself to stand, then wobbled toward the door. " Stop that racket, " she attempted to say. The pounding on the door only added to her pain. The need rasped out much more feebly than she intended ; a pitiful single word. " Stop. " Of course, there was no possible way she had been heard, yet there was a pause anyway.

Andrea shivered, feeling both hot and cold in her t-shirt and pajama bottoms, and laid her hand on the door frame for support before she peered blearily through the peephole. Then she gaped, like a fish, as she realized who she was looking at. She was startled a little when the knock happened again. She slid her glance sideways, at her locks. They would hold, she was almost sure, but if Roy was here it was probably for a reason. Maybe a good one. Most likely for a Miranda one. He didn't look happy.

She wasn't entirely sure she was up to it, but neither was she cruel. She owned that she might not be thinking too clearly and that it might not be a good idea, but Roy had some duty that had brought him here. She'd let him perform it; at least enough so he could say he made the attempt. She only wished she'd had a robe, but honestly, she'd never really needed one before.

Mentally girding herself, she began undoing the locks in slow progression. By the time she finished she felt slightly nauseous and winded ; such a great combination. She opened the door cautiously. She managed, " Hello, Roy, " and secretly hoped she wouldn't have to say much more.

The chauffeur started to reply, and paused, as he got a really good look at her. Then, as if he changed his mind, he said exactly what he was going to say before ; only somehow different. " I am here on behalf of Miranda Priestly. "

Andrea blinked at him, then took a few steps back and waved him in. " Welcome to plague city, " she said wearily. " What does she want ?"

"You. " Andrea's attention snapped to him. He took his hat in his hands and said, " Let me rephrase that. She has sent me to get you in order to discuss something. I don't know what. "

"I'm sick. You need to tell her I'm sick. " She flushed, felt drained even as she was trying to say what needed to be said. " She doesn't want me like this. I mean... I mean... "

"Miranda was most adamant. "

Andrea grimaced and raised a hand in a stop motion. " I get that, " she said, " I know how she is, but I... "

He shifted, " The building's heat is out. " She stared at him, glanced out a window and then at a far wall. She walked to the thermostat, as he continued to speak. He followed. " Even if you do not feel up to..., " he stumbled to a verbal stop, not wanting to say the thought and then said instead, " You should come. You need to be someplace warm. I can take you. "

"Stupid piece of..., " she said. Then she turned, " I don't mean you. "

"I understand. "

She put one hand on her hip and placed a palm on her forehead. " I so don't need this. "

"No one does, Andy . "

She glanced at him, with a small spark of her usual good humor and let her hands flop down by her sides. " Okay. Okay. So, I need to relocate. I can find a hotel. Miranda wants to see me. I need to get dressed ; freshened up. I need to get some things together. Can you wait ?"

"For a few minutes. " He looked around. " Do you wish to have my assistance ?"

Any other time she would have definitely said no. " I need, " she pointed vaguely at her laptop. She had a sense of a dream, of something inevitable and surreal. She must still be sleeping. Yet she couldn't resist the pattern of the story. " I'll throw some clothes together. "

"As you wish. "

- TDWP -

Miranda spotted Roy with a tiny suitcase and a laptop bag and arched her brow. Andrea was not with him. He strode to the back of the vehicle and stored the baggage away. Then he went back up the steps, just as the door opened to reveal the younger woman. Andrea, cloaked by a long black coat, her long hair back in a pony-tail, stepped carefully out and took Roy's proffered hand. It was obvious that Andrea had dressed for comfort rather than style. She wore jeans and Doc Martins. It was a sensible choice, one she now carried with a certain panache and grace that had been sorely missing in her early days. Miranda was willing to accept it.

Roy led Andrea to the car. Then, in a surprising move, opened the front passenger door. Andrea started in, looking dreadfully uncomfortable, but trying to be game.

"No, " Miranda said sharply. The young woman startled, and stared at the older woman.

"Miranda. I. But... "

"You will not sit in the front. "

Andrea squinched her eyes shut, as if that would change anything. Then, opened them again and tried for clarity. " Roy said he'd give me a ride. I didn't know you were in the car or I wouldn't have come. "

"Because you did not wish to see me. "

"No. Because I'm catchy. I'm pretty sure of it. I didn't think I was, when I went to work, but then I got sent home. And now the building heat is off and Roy said I couldn't stay there. I'm medicated so I won't cough all over the place right now, but who knows how long that will last. " Then she shook her head, knowing she was babbling. It was panic, and she had little control over it. " Besides, you wanted to see me... I... just couldn't not come... Because, you know. It's you. " Her voice trailed off and suddenly Andrea just looked tired.

"Regardless. Not in the front. "

"Fine. " She glared briefly at Miranda, and said, " This is a really bad idea. "

Andrea backed out. Roy closed the front door and led the young woman around to the other side. She slid in, wrapping her arms around herself, and leaned her head back against the headrest as Roy shut that door. She appeared flushed, yet at the same time pale, even with the disguise of makeup. Her eyes closed.

Andrea realized her behavior was just this side of rude, but she had already realized she must be dreaming, since Miranda would never want to see her, which made it her dream, right ? Then she felt a cool, light pressure on her forehead, a palm of a hand not her own. It felt good, planted a warm curling sensation in her that could not be adequately described. She didn't open her eyes, but the touch went away anyway and she sighed at the loss.

When the vehicle started moving, Andrea finally decided to join the living, at least temporarily. She looked everywhere except Miranda ; at first. " It's really coming down, isn't it. The snow, I mean. "

"Yes. It has been for awhile."

That's right. No small talk. Yet, she had been answered. She turned in her seat a little, not quite giving up her semi-comfortable position, head still resting on the headrest, so she could gaze at Miranda. Andrea was immediately caught in an assessing azure gaze, but she realized it was not a judgmental one. Miranda, as usual, was gorgeous ; maybe a little tired, if you knew what to look for, but all in all... She realized she was soaking in the sight of her ex-boss. She closed her eyes against what might be revealed, knew it was possibly too late.

No sense in hiding then. She looked again, tried to find her balance. " You needed to see me ?"

"Do you still have all the numbers ?"

Andrea closed her eyes again, this time so she could think, try to parse the possible intentions from the necessity of answering correctly. When she reached a decision based on the most recent event she could remember, another part of the dream, she opened them again, dug into her pocket and fished out her cell phone. She extended it to Miranda. Andrea was only lightly shocked when the older woman took the phone, and began examining the contents. Andrea realized that there was a good chance that her address book was going to be several names shorter. She hadn't been sure why she'd kept them all, except for a connection to the memories and occasional excellent take-out. She might feel the loss, later, but at the moment she was okay with watching Miranda operate.

"I'm sorry about Paris. I mean, not about what I had to do, because, you know. Had to do it. But... I'm sorry if I hurt you. I hated that part. Couldn't think of a way past it. Plus, you know, was a little angry. Well, a lot at that time. It wasn't my best day ever. Not that this one is, either. Well, better because of you, right now, but you're probably a dream anyhow. Why am I here again ?"

Well, damn. At least it wasn't small talk.

Miranda didn't immediately answer, but finished what she was doing. She extended the phone back to the younger woman. " Andrea, I have removed my old numbers. "

"Oh. "

"And I have updated you with my current. "

"Oh. "

"Take the phone, Andrea. "

Their fingers touched. " For a dream, you seem really... solid, " Andrea said as she retrieved the phone. " Nice. "

"Nice ?" Miranda's voice arched in rejection of the concept.

"Well, I mean... " Impulsively Andrea clasped Miranda's still extended hand with her free one, as she tucked away the phone, " ...surprisingly real. For a dream, I mean. It's good. "

Miranda's lips quirked into a near-smile. " I see. " She did not pull away immediately, but held the grip, not too tightly. Her thumb brushed across the back of Andrea's hand. She watched as the younger woman's shoulders settled ; considered her next move.

She was so used to plotting several steps ahead, a necessity in her life, but this moment was not something for which she'd exactly planned. She was not, however, averse to taking advantage of a situation once presented to her, even mild delirium. But first, the offering had been made, however deliriously delivered. Now to act in good faith. " I too sorrow about Paris, and the hurt I inflicted upon you. But not that I did what needed doing. " Truth for truth. It was something she would like to see more of between them.

Andrea's grip tightened lightly. She did not withdraw, as Miranda half expected her to. The brunette nodded slightly, brown eyes soft. " I knew that. I mean, after a while. I knew it. "

"Oh ?"

"You didn't come after me. I mean, you didn't stop me from working. I mean, you could have. I was prepared to go back to Ohio. "

"Never. " Miranda's expression became stern.

"Ohio's not that bad. My parents live there."

"Then visit. You are not going back there to live, Andrea. Not while I breathe. I will not permit it. "

Andrea felt a flash of amazement, tinged with humor. " You'd black-ball me in Ohio, but not New York. " Miranda's brow arched. "Wait. You did it? You actually..." She stared at Miranda incredulously and thought of a conversation she'd had with her parents, how they'd encouraged her to stay in New York and make her dream come true. It had not been the conversation she'd expected to have with them. "Oh. My. God. Miranda... "

"Andrea, you don't belong in Ohio. You belong here. " The ' with me, ' was implied. Miranda tilted her glasses and looked directly into Andrea's eyes to seal the point.

"I..." Andrea blinked. "Well. I. You can't just do that. I mean..." She shook her head vaguely and said, "I wanted to stay anyway. Shouldn't have, but wanted to." Then she smiled slowly, as she realized one pertinent fact. She was here with Miranda Priestly; who was holding her hand. "Wow, this is a much better dream than I thought it was going to be."

"Mm. It seems to be acceptable. " Miranda reached up with her free hand and cupped the younger woman's face. " Are you thirsty ? Do you want to lay down for a little while ?"

Andrea licked her lips lightly, testing, and shook her head. Then she said " No. Yes. " Miranda's hand dropped to Andrea's shoulder. They shifted together, Andrea following the nonverbal cues, until her head lay on Miranda's lap. It was shockingly comfortable and Andrea settled in like a cat in perfect sunlight. " I like the coat. It's soft and the silver compliments you." She exhaled softly. " You've taught me so many colors, Miranda. "

Andrea had not yet released her grip on one of Miranda's hands, somehow using the older woman's arm like a throw-cover. Or a hug. Miranda was not opposed, merely amused. She used her other, free hand to pet Andrea's hair. " I read the Mirror, Andrea. I noticed that you've used what you've learned. I have been very pleased. I also noticed that you covered Rose's celebration, but not Paulette's. "

"Hmm. Oh. " Andrea was still, technically, tracking, but growing drowsier. " That was, what, a couple of weeks ago. I don't normally do that kind of piece. "

"I know. But still, Rose, not Paulette... "

"You were going to Paulette's. "

"I went to Paulette's, yes. "

"Greg wouldn't let me. Conflict of interest. He thought ... " Andrea squeezed Miranda's hand gently, released it as lightly, while still not technically letting go. " He thought maybe you'd have a more enjoyable time without me there. "

"I see. " Miranda's fingertips brushed Andrea's temple. " We shall have to correct his impression. " Andrea stiffened slightly and the older woman continued, " At a later time, when I can be civil about it. "

"I... Okay, Miranda. He's a good man. " Andrea relaxed again.

"I am sure he is. " Miranda's touch stilled. " Speaking of men, the cook ... "

"Nate ?"

"Are you and he still... "

Andrea snuggled in more. " No. He has a girl in Boston. She's more his style. "

"Ah. I wish I could say I sorrow at your loss, Andrea. "

Again Miranda's hand was squeezed lightly. " One of those things. "

"Yes. I suppose. Are you with anyone else ?"

"No. Just you. " Andrea opened her eyes and blinked several times. Then breathed, " Oh yeah, a dream. I can say that. "

"As many times as you wish. I enjoy hearing it. "

"You would. "

Miranda smiled at the good-natured humor in Andrea's response. " Yes. " Then Miranda said, " Why don't you sleep for a bit. We'll be home soon. "

"I'm sorry. "

"For what ?"

"Being catchy. I don't want to make you sick. "

"You shan't. I have an iron constitution. I'm a Dragon, remember. "

"A Dragon. Okay. I'll accept that. " Andrea considered, then had to ask, knowing it would be indulgent if Miranda was willing to play the game of it, " Do Dragons like Andys ?"

"This Dragon likes this Andrea. "

"Wow. That's... " Words failed. How could she express something yearned for, for such a long time, yet felt not-deserved? It was too big an emotion. Tears brimmed and she fought them, but they slid anyway. Even knowing it was a dream, and the words only existed in the hope of her heart, did not stop them. She wiped at her eyes, unable to be subtle about it and too tired from everything else.

Miranda never stopped the soothing strokes through her hair. A gentle head massage that had Andrea's tired eyes slipping closed. She said, gently, "Sleep, Andrea. We can talk about it again, later."

As if she had just been waiting for the command, Andrea drifted into the comfort of slumber.

- TDWP -

A burst of cold, wet air inevitably caused Andrea to stir. " We're here, " Miranda said and the young woman's attention was gained, if not deepened.

"I need to get up. "

"You were always observant, Andrea. Roy will help you. "

Miranda kept still as the brunette pushed away, and out of the car until she was somehow gathered up by the chauffeur into a standing position. Roy said, " I'll be back for you. "

"Not necessary. Don't let Andrea stand idly in the wind. "

He nodded an acknowledgment before shutting the door, blocking out winter for a little longer. Miranda proceeded to get out of the car, and paced up the snowy stairs in stilettos with full confidence and agility, nearly beating them to the door. She already had her key out, dangling it once for Roy's attention, then she opened the door. " Take her to my room. Let Andrea lay down on the bed if she wants to, go get her belongings and set them in here in the foyer. Then you are excused for the evening. " Roy's brows rose in disbelief, but began efficiently bundling the not quite awake enough to protest Andrea up the stairs.

Miranda paused a few heartbeats to decide what to do next. She inhaled lightly, pausing to take a moment to sense her home and determine if she was first to arrive. She could not hear her children, nor smell a dinner. She started toward the kitchen and pulled her cell phone out of a pocket. Time to make a call to Cara and see if they were on their way.

- TDWP -

Andrea woke slowly, lethargically, and in a mild state of confusion. It was not quite dark. Ambient light from a lamp provided gentle illumination. That was not really the confusing part. She had lights. She couldn't remember turning them on, but that didn't mean anything. The soft surface of an unfamiliar bed and the realization that she was not alone, however, did provide information that she had difficulty putting together ; at first.

Someone was soothingly caressing her back in slow, circular motions and there was a pressure on her right side, one reminiscent of other times when she shared a bed. That let her know someone was with her. Of course, to confirm all this, she would actually need to open her eyes enough to get a good look. A part of her, however, luxuriated in the strange, deep feeling of rightness.

Inevitably, Andrea knew she had to shake off the sleep and wake up. She inhaled, not quite yawning, and, feeling turtle-slow, turned her head. The touch on her back stilled, but did not leave, for which she was grateful. The journalist cracked open her eyes, and realized she was gazing at a shapely hip, one covered by a streamlined, short, black skirt. Andrea's gaze traveled the sleek outline of the skirt to take in the slope and length of scandalously exquisite legs, all the way down to bare feet with perfectly manicured toenails. Andrea blinked. She knew those legs, had contemplated them for hours in a previous life, but had rarely observed the bare feet. They were something to appreciate, even to linger upon, which she did for a noticeable amount of time.

"Wow," Andrea managed the breathy compliment, eventually, as she realized she did need to redirect her attention. She raised her gaze back up, slowly retracing up and passed curves she had already visually traveled; enjoying it just as much the second time around. She noted a book on the lap, and set aside the need to know about it, until she reached the torso. She paused at the hemline, where a white silk shirt was tucked neatly into the black skirt, and then let her gaze roam up. She had intended to move faster, but the constraint of location and not-quite-wakefulness slowed her pace to one that forced an ordered appreciation of the journey.

Andrea paused again, at where the collar opened, revealing neck and the hint of breasts, and watched as the other woman breathed lightly. She could easily have gotten stuck there, watching that rhythm forever, but she felt the light pressure of nails on her back. It was not harshly done, merely an attention getter, which caused her to shake off the hypnotic effect and continue her perusal. She had to turn a little on her side though, sliding so she could look up without having to arch too much. The hand on her back now fit comfortably on her waist and Andy finished her visual journey, taking in the expanse of a slim neck, sensuous jawline, delicious mouth, imperial nose, until she finally reached contact with arctic blue eyes. They were far from cold. It took her a moment to pull her focus back, to see the whole, to see the white-silver halo. " Miranda, " she breathed, hardly able to believe she was there, but knowing that there was no other person it could possibly be.

"Andrea," the other woman greeted her with equanimity, apparently not fazed at all by the length of time it had taken for the younger woman to finally hone in on her. She set the book, a hardback, on the small drawer by the bed, under the lamp and turned her full attention on the brunette.

At any other time previous in Andrea's life, especially if she had still been working for the editor-in-chief, that attention might have been terrifying. Now she drew comfort in the firmness of the gaze. It made her feel less dizzy. " I'm in your bed, " she said. She had vague memories of being most gently undressed and redressed. " In my PJs. " She looked a moment at her bare arm, only inches away from Miranda and wondered that the mogul had let her stay in such unstylish wear. Yet, she was touched at the same time, that there had been no implicit criticism, no shaking of Andrea's faith while vulnerable. It was odd behavior, given what she knew about Miranda, and that bore thinking upon. Andrea, however, was in no way up to it yet. She realized she was clutching one of the other woman's pillows " In your bed, " she reiterated.

"Yes. " Miranda's touch glided up Andrea's side and she turned toward the brunette and brushed some of Andy's hair away from her face. Miranda's lips pursed, but not in a bad way, just in a considering way. " It's too bad it couldn't be under better circumstances. "

Andrea's breath left her for a moment, but by then she regained a little clarity. " The problem being that, before, it never would have been possible. Which would have been a tragedy. " She realized, as she watched Miranda smile in amusement, that she was still not able to censor her thoughts. She was apparently going to say whatever first came to her head.

Nothing for it now, what was said, was said. One of Andrea's gifts was that she was practical. She shrugged and turned her attention away from Miranda, only for a moment. " I'm not even sure how this happened. "

"Do you really want me to explain ?"

"No. " The younger woman paused, remembering. " I'm still dreaming, aren't I? "

"Andrea, " Miranda began, then paused. She wanted to assure her that no, she wasn't dreaming, but she recognized the advantage of the younger woman's current state. Words could be safely said, revelations could be safely revealed. Many of the hurdles that she could instinctively sense between getting them to this state of openness again, could be eliminated right here and now. So, after a split second of deliberation, the assurance that she had been about to offer, changed. " Are you thirsty ?" Her fingers caressed Andy's face. " You're still so warm. "

Andrea considered and realized there were other, more pressing matters. " Bathroom ?"

Miranda nodded in a particular direction. " That way. "

Andy sat up, realized she was still a little dizzy, but managed to reluctantly slide away from Miranda. She stood up, paused long enough to say, " You let me into your house. "

Miranda did not point out that Andrea had been to her house before. She knew it was different. "Among other things. "

- TDWP -

It would have been, had Andrea been more well, and more nervous, very easy to fill the silence, but by the time she had returned out of the bathroom, a small meal with a drink had been set up on a portable table near an easy chair. Miranda met her outside of the bathroom and guided Andrea to the chair. She took one beside it, so they sat near each other, but not quite next to. For a few moments there was friendly quiet between them. Then Andy had a thought and that thought led to an achingly piercing and unusually jealous moment. Andrea had envisioned Miranda and her last husband sitting together.

"I don't do jealousy," she said, firmly as if commanding herself to make it so, and was, at the same time, unaware that she had even said it. She deliberately picked up the cloth napkin, which had been laid under the spoon. She intended to unfold it, pulling at the edges with both hands.

"Really?" Miranda asked. Andrea flushed in embarrassment, but couldn't not answer.

She glanced at Miranda and finally said, "Normally." She then looked down. "Usually."

The older woman shifted forward in her seat, her eyes seemed to catch a dangerous spark and her brows drew down speculatively. She motioned with her hand, a small gesture, as if tugging on an invisible line or spinning a tiny spell. "Andrea. Tell me."

Oddly compelled, the young woman crushed the cloth napkin in her hands, tried not to say anything for a whole ten seconds, and then said it anyway. "When Nate told me that he and Lily were interested in more, I was happy for them. I was thrilled for me." She looked at Miranda, slightly defiant, expecting a judgment and owning it, "It was wonderful. We were wonderful. We were good together." She paused, waiting to see what Miranda would do with the information.

Stillness seemed to pool at the older woman's feet, to draw up her form and surround her. Miranda said nothing, offered nothing, except her attention. She was biding her time and the younger woman felt a shiver of some unnameable awareness tremble through her. It was a heady sensation, not really fear, but a sort of heightened alertness. Andrea's employment at Runway had tutored her well in utilizing the energy of that sensation, until she had become almost supernatural in the ability to pluck Miranda's thought or need or desire out of the air. Now that sensation felt almost reversed, as if, this once, it were Miranda who were tugging at a strand within Andrea. She contemplated what to say next, how to say it, and then realized she had already given away the end. Miranda knew the outcome. It was the getting there, which had been missing.

"I don't know what changed entirely. I mean, I knew what changed with me. One can't live through you and not be fundamentally altered, no offense."

Miranda blinked, a little taken aback, but offered no reply. So Andrea continued, "And coming out on the other side, I think, for me, it was a very good thing. I even kind of got that it probably would be, early, after you reamed me about cerulean, of all things. And then Nigel put the rest of the picture, the whole meaning of what it was you were doing, in a framework I could understand. So I embraced that all the way, because once I understood what it could mean, I knew I wanted... I wanted... to take that knowledge and see what could be made of it. And it turned out you were right. Style did matter. Color mattered. Choices mattered. I changed for you, yes. But I changed for me, more. And every day was a new discovery. " She shook her head lightly, in memory. "But I always stayed me." She laughed. "Actually, I think I became even more me."

Now she looked directly and fiercely at Miranda, "You know that. You were there, during and at the end; even after the end. Every day. Every night... I ran away, but never escaped you." Andrea laughed again, softly, a little sadly, and looked away again. "What I did not know, could not know, was that my Nate and Lily were changing greatly too and there was no real how or why that I knew of. It wasn't obvious, like with me. All they had to do was point to a job and I could see that their arguments were true to some extent. I was different. But they kept up with their challenges and attitudes, even when I told them they were right. I was changing. But life is change. Or so I was taught. I could feel me getting... better. But they didn't think so. And still, even with their disbelief in me, I thought I was still theirs, until a few weeks before Paris. I could be wrong, but I think that's when it really ended. Before then I thought we were at least still trying."

Andrea's shoulders sunk in despair; defeat. Sorrow. Tears Miranda had seen before, had reveled in on occasion, but this aspect of Andrea wrenched her and broke right through the usual casual amusement of a successful strike. Andrea was offering no apologies and this was no idle chatter.

The young woman crumpled, then uncrumpled the cloth in her hand. Then took up the thread again. "I thought they understood, and they were only being bitchy about things. Yes, there were demands on my time. Yes, I dressed differently. Yes, I worked hard and, the challenges you set me... My god. Sometimes it was utterly impossible. But I wanted to rise for you. I wanted to be more than just an assistant. I wanted to see if I could excel at something so unlike anything I'd ever done. And pleasing you, even momentarily, that became my art. It wasn't terror that drove me after the first while, though it did fuel me, sometimes later. It was... something indescribable. An act of creation that I couldn't quite tame, but could only ride. Lightning. I think you were lightning and I could hear the thunder when you called."

Miranda blinked and gasped. Here was a gleam of the lyricism that was Andrea. And it shattered and rebuilt Miranda's perspective of the woman. She had been looking in the wrong place. Not that Andrea's writing wasn't strong or that Andrea could not cope with surprises, but the magic, which Miranda had sensed so long ago and, apparently, so misunderstood, was not about newspaper articles or even honing Andrea into the world's best assistant.

Andrea barrelled on, not at all disturbed by Miranda's reaction. She was still under the summons and Miranda, despite that brief shift in mental direction, was forced to return - to hear it all - whether she willed it or not; that was a consequence of her choice to tug a reveal from Andrea in this weakened state. One received what one was given. "I thought sure Lily could grasp the idea of it. I know I explained it to her. I thought I had. She's an artist. I've seen her obsess and trust me, when she is gone, she is gone. For days. And it wasn't just me making a living. Lily had her own job and her art obligations. Her schedule was no easy thing. And Nate, he was the same. That passion was what drew us all together in the first place and it was good glue. But somewhere that connection grew soft, less solid. And, I've had time to think on this awhile. A whole year or so... I've come to a sort of conclusion. One that I think is correct, but... I could just be shying from a truth. It's just, I don't think it was me. I think it was them.

"I mean, Nate too was often away early in the day, gone until late at night, trying to become what he wanted to be. His schedule was as crazy as mine. So why was it a big deal then, that my time was as valuable as theirs? It was understood that we were all busy, that we all had things we took pride in doing, that we would make the time, if and when we could. And we made sure, Miranda, to include our friend Doug, because, you know true friends are rare and need to be nurtured. And he was my friend too. Until he thought he had to make a choice."

Miranda's expression tightened, sharpened. Her nails dug into the upholstery of her chair. Her hair moved lightly as if a window had been opened, but the air was still. Andrea continued, oblivious to the energy charging around her, the unexpected need for confession had her full attention.

"Then, one day, they just stopped. They stopped being there, stopped needing me. It wasn't that they wouldn't meet with me when I was available. A drink here. A visit there. But it wasn't the same. One night Nate says to me, that the calls I took, from you, were the relationship I was in. He was so vehement and bitter. Yes, jealous, now that I think of it. He was the one who was jealous. Not me. So odd, since he was the one who started it." Andrea paused, remembering that cold night; how there was nothing to do, but accept it, and be hurt. "I remember feeling dizzy, shocked. A little afraid. A lot hurt. Not because I did not want it to be true, but because I had not thought of it that way before and I had believed, until right then, there was a limit. A secret number and no more. It was a revelation." She paused for a long time, but then continued, "I realized it wasn't a number, it wasn't a secret formula. It was, as always, the person... or persons...in that particular relationship. In happiness and love, or work, the rules were not the rules I thought I knew or thought I broke." Andrea chuckled harshly, "They were all my rules and they were for shit. I was undone."

"I realized that he was right. You had become an integral part of me, of my life. So much so, that I couldn't even begin to imagine leaving. Even knowing that most of your assistants maybe last a year or two. I felt forever in us. I know that doesn't sound right, I was only an assistant. But I was not an Emily." She growled an impossible little growl, one that sent a wave of shivers up Miranda's spine. "I was never an Emily. Which is why I worked so hard for you to see me. Which, you did and so much for that... I thought that it must be a crush at first, and I thought I could just get through it, but you simply wouldn't go away. So, I... adapted. I mean, what the hell else could I do? There is and was no 'us.'" Andrea paused, wanting to desperately to stop the flow of her words, but unable. "What was funny about the whole thing, Miranda, was not that I always took your calls. Of course I did. I wanted and needed to. I never knew what would happen next with you, and I couldn't resist the fascinating pull of you." She smiled slightly. "Much. But... what was odd, or maybe not so odd, if someone really knew me... and they should have realized... was that I always took theirs too. I took their calls, Miranda. Every time." She shrugged, helplessly. "They'd just stopped calling."

Miranda's gaze blazed at Andrea's words and her grip on the armrests of her chair had turned her knuckles white. She was beginning to appreciate the horrid depth of her mistakes in Paris. She had missed signs of Andrea's pain, had been so caught up in her own, that she had mistaken empathy for pity. And had taken that mistaken assumption and used it as a weapon. More, she felt an intense rage that her Andrea should be hurt in such a way, even as she wallowed in a desperately quiet jealous foment against those who had experienced the young woman's heart and tossed it away. It was not an emotion that came out of nowhere. She too had a year to gain an understanding, to become more fundamentally aware of her own feelings. She too had dreams.

The younger woman looked at the crumpled cloth in her hands and let it unfold. She smoothed it down, as if trying to brush away the wrinkles. "But that was not what you meant, not what you were asking for. You want to know why I said what I said." She was tired. And lost.

Miranda whispered, eyes wider than before, as if she were seeing the world from new ground. The words carried a mystical weight and pushed. "Go on, Andrea."

"I am not even really sure if I have given the right name to it anyway. Maybe jealousy isn't the word. I know envy isn't. What I do I know, for darn sure, I have no right to the feeling and no good explanation for why I felt it. But I can give you an example. And maybe you can tell me." Her gaze slipped toward Miranda and then skittered away. She couldn't look at the other woman and say what was coming next.

"I remember feeling it at the gala where Stephen chose to show. It was not that everyone wanted you, which, by the way, they so did. It was actually kind of wonderful. Enthralling. I could see why you might vibe to it. Anyone would. And so, I realize now, it wasn't even that someone else touched you or that you touched them. You may not be touchy-feely, but everyone needs contact... I wished, rather desperately it could be me, but... I knew the boundaries. I was, up to that point, a professional." Andrea smiled ruefully and Miranda exhaled softly at the beauty of those curved lips.

"No. It was that he, in particular, your Stephen, was the one touching you and able to do so with a freedom I could hardly imagine and utterly longed for. And I knew. Just knew, he really, really shouldn't have been even in the same room with you. He was unworthy of you..." The cloth shredded with the sudden, unexpected, tightening of her grip, forcing Andrea's attention away. She stared at her hands in puzzled disbelief and then shrugged.

Miranda's eyes widened even farther, and she drew in an unsteady, shocked breath.

"That he could lay hands upon you with impunity... I don't think I can tell you... I have never felt anything like it. Never. I saw Red. No. The darkest of crimson, Miranda. Like blood covering my vision. For whole heartbeats. I saw everything so clearly, so strangely. I knew I couldn't stay in that frame of mind. I knew I'd do something... crazy. And you needed me not to be crazy. I needed me not to be. So... I fought hard to get past it, I did. I knew you were married. I knew you had a life. I honored that. I did and I do. Truly. So I dug in. Real hard. I dug in and stuck it down, so I could do what you needed me to do. Be who you needed me to be..."

"Oh!" The utterance was softly spoken, barely uttered. What was there to be observed now, had been hidden. Deeply. Powerfully. Hidden. And so stubbornly resisted... Miranda's shock embraced a new sensation; respect. Her lips quirked in sudden amusement at herself, not that she would have noticed at that time anyway. Not that she wanted to notice. Empires toppled on things missed ... or deliberately avoided. Yes. There had been signs. She had tested Andrea, after all. So very thoroughly. Of course, it was a test for all the wrong things... Looking back, given context, she began to truly see. She drew in a shaky breath, reigned in her first responses. Listened very, very carefully to what was said and left unsaid.

"I still do not understand how I came so instantly to the conclusion that he was not right for you. And maybe he was before. I don't know. Maybe before he was perfect for you. But not then. Not there. Not in my presence. He... smelled wrong. Wrong!" The word was an animal snarl. Andrea shook her head, trying to clear it, resisting the compelling at last because the emotions were still too sharp, and the reality too unnerving to not sting and shake.

Then, she admitted the thing she thought most awful, most unforgivable. "I was... was glad he pushed for a divorce. I hate saying that. I would never say that to your face. I know it hurt you so deeply and how could I bear to see you suffer? And then, of course, the timing was terrible. And I would have changed that, if I could. I feel awful that I felt that way; feel that way still." The young woman shook her head like a regretful lion, "But things didn't turn out so well,anyway, which you already know. I had intended...I don't know what I intended... How could I have any intentions at all, except to be your Andrea in the only way you would ever let me. And then I wasn't even that anymore." Andrea exhaled and then inhaled slowly, whispered painfully. "And by my own choice."

She grimaced and said, finally, her voice back at her normal cadence. "And yet, now I'm dreaming something so impossible, that I am here, with Miranda, and it's been kind of a very nice dream, so unexpected. I keep trying to follow the thread and losing it... But here I am and the thought that he was in this room once, had the right to share any time with you, to be with you...it brings me right back to the ballroom and how beautiful you were and how not right he was. And I still don't understand the why of it. So I can't tell you this. Not ever. Not any of it. You must never know..." Andrea trembled hard, her voice a whisper. She was nearly pushed beyond what she could bear.

"Andrea."

Even in this state, Andrea had an animal awareness that her story might be deemed so very inappropriate and she had no way to take any of it back. She hunched in, instinctively protecting the belly, like a wounded creature. The shreds of the napkin dangled in the tight grip of her hands.

Miranda stood up, feeling shaky herself, and yet walked across that short space and knelt, placing her hands over the younger woman's. "Andrea."

The younger woman grimaced, and refused to look Miranda in the eyes. She did, however, answer the quiet call, despite herself. In this case, old habits betrayed her. "Yes, Miranda."

"That's all."

Andrea exhaled in a great, shuddering breath. She shivered from head to toe, before falling still and breathing evenly. Miranda gently pried the cloth from her grip. Andrea blinked, confused; feeling displaced. "What... What just happened?" she breathed, tried to find her bearings.

"Nothing for you to worry about. We may talk about it another time. I think you need to take some nourishment, now."

Andrea smiled, a trifle uneasily, but accepted Miranda's declaration. She turned her attention to the small repast. It was soup, a chunk of home-made multi-grain bread, lightly buttered, and a tall glass of ginger ale. "This looks good." Surprisingly good, considering that seemingly moments ago, the thought of food had an opposite effect.

"I think you will find it satisfactory." Miranda stood up, graceful and at ease.

"Chicken soup? Excellent. I like it."

"I am gratified to hear it, as it is the common cure."

"So they say. Thank you, Miranda." She began to eat, enjoying the soothing familiar taste of home cooking. For a brief moment she imagined that it had been made by Miranda, and realized that was improbable. It was just another fanciful thought in a long, long, long line of fanciful thoughts.

Miranda did not reply. Instead she tilted her head as if listening to something just out of range. Andrea hadn't thought to ask if there was anyone else in the house and decided not to bring up the topic now, just because it suddenly occurred to her.

"I will return soon, Andrea."

"Okay."

"You may lay down, when you're finished, if you feel like it."

"I'm alright here." What she did not say was that she was afraid she would fall asleep, wake up, and find everything back to the way it was before. She was still convinced she was dreaming, but played along. She'd rather be dreaming and with Miranda, than awake and wishing she was with Miranda. Yes, she decided, this was much better.

Miranda peered at her, then nodded, not necessarily in approval, but in acceptance of Andrea's choice. She left then, exiting and shutting the door behind her.

The soup really was good. Not that she'd ever actually tasted soup in a dream. "It even tastes like chicken," she said, in surprise at a weird proof.

- TDWP -

Miranda later slid back into the room, holding a largish object in her hand. Andrea was reclining in her seat, eyes closed. The meal was obviously concluded.

Andrea shifted at the sound of the door closing and opened her eyes. "You made her bring the Book. "

Miranda gave her an arch look and took the seat beside Andrea again. She opened the book in her lap and reached over to the nearby light-stand for a stack of Post-its that were obviously there for the purpose. She then liberated a pen from a tiny holder. Then she put her glasses on. Finally, before actually looking at the book, she replied. "I didn't make the new Emily do anything. It is her job, but in this case, it was also her choice."

"Miranda, you gotta know, that she didn't think it was a choice. Unless you gave her another option. I checked the weather on my phone. Apparently it's really bad out. " Andrea paused, " You know, a blizzard, the kind of weather one can't change at a whim and is generally bad for normal folk. "

"I could have. " Miranda, turned in her seat and tilted her glasses at Andy. It was time to set a few things in motion.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I could have changed the weather. "**  
**

Andrea blinked for a moment, stared, and then grinned, " Oh. Because you're a Dragon. That's right. " She waved her hand indicating the space between herself and Miranda, "So we're going to keep doing this, then?"

"It seems you find amusement in this discussion. At the moment, I can't provide another distraction, it's something you need to know, and I was making a point."

Then she grinned even more, " It's a pretty obscure point, if you ask me. But, if you, oh mighty Dragon, can change the weather, why didn't you ? I mean, back when you demanded I get you a ride during a hurricane. Seems to me that would have been a good time to exercise that power. I will caveat that as, aside from the fact you were testing me. " Andrea considered a little more, " Or trying to get rid of me. " She looked intently at Miranda, " Were you ? Trying to get rid of me. "

Miranda settled back in the chair, taking off her glasses, and letting them dangle in her fingers. " One does not change weather on a whim, Andrea. Not these days. It confuses people. And, there are other factors. Emotions can have effect on weather regardless of how controlled one might be. It is better that the environment already is receptive to change, or it becomes... noticeable."

Andrea was successfully diverted. " What about that squall that was supposed to happen in Texas last year. They were predicting a huge storm over there and it just sort of, " Andy waved her hand, " ... blew over. "

"Not my doing. I was not in Texas. "

"Are you saying someone else was ?"

Miranda managed to look disapproving, without that disapproval being directed at Andrea. It was almost as if they were having a serious discussion. " Not one of mine. "

"There are more Dragons than you. And some of those Dragons are yours. "

Miranda arched her brow.

"Of course there are. " Andrea grinned, " But no one as sexy as you. " She paused long enough to look flabbergasted and slapped a hand over her mouth, blushing furiously. " My don't-say-that button is still not working right, Miranda. "

Miranda offered a predatory grin. " I have been enjoying it. " The blush deepened, and so did Miranda's smile.

Andrea cleared her throat and looked away for a while, allowing Miranda to examine her profile for a few moments before returning her attention to the Book.

Quiet minutes passed and Andrea tentatively asked, " Are Dragons born or made ?"

Miranda finished the note she was jotting, pasted it to the book and then, finally, offered Andrea her attention again. The older woman's expression was carefully neutral. " Both. "

Andrea nodded, then asked, " Your daughters, then ?"

"Yes. "

"That would make sense. "

Again, Miranda could not hide her amusement.

"Do the colors have meaning?"

"Some do. Some don't. Colorations vary so much in our world. Metallics are nobility."

"So, bronze is like a knight then?"

"That is apt. Yes."

"Silver is a baron?"

"Hmm. Yes. Close."

"Gold... a King or a Queen."

"Variations of gold. And those variations mean something too. One might call them aspects. More, you should know there are types of Kings and Queens in our world. A Queen Dragon is different from a Dragon Queen. A Queen Dragon is the most powerful type of female Dragon, while a Dragon Queen is one half of the ruling couple. The same hold true for King Dragons and Dragon Kings."

"Ah, I get you." Andrea cocked her head and looked at Miranda, really looked. "You're not silver, are you? I mean, it could be easy to make that mistake. But... you're something else."

Miranda held very still, and spoke with caution. "What do you think I am, Andrea?"

"You're a gold." Andrea thought back, "Like some of your jewelry."

"You notice my jewelry."

"I noticed everything about you, Miranda." Again Andrea blushed. "Shoot." She didn't apologize though. She already had. "You're being surprisingly patient with me, Miranda."

"One of us has a fever, should be under the covers in bed, but won't go, and is currently being interesting, despite the flaws of the situation."

"Oh." Andrea blinked, then grinned. "Well, when you put it that way."

"If you don't mind, however, I do have other things to do."

"Don't keep a Dragon waiting."

"It is unwise."

"Heh." Andrea cleared her throat, slightly, then made up her mind. "White gold. You're a rare mineral Miranda."

"Metallic, Andrea. And yes, very rare."

"Will... are Carolyn and Cassidy..."

"They have yet to grow into their color, but they are shading to the red."

"Still pretty."

Now Miranda smiled, "Yes. They are beautiful girls aren't they?"

"Yeah. They're good kids."

Miranda smirked, "I shall be sure to tell them you think so."

Andrea laughed, relaxing for the first time since she had awakened.

- TDWP -

"So, Dragons exist," Andrea murmured drowsily. They lay on the bed, under the covers and side by side. It was a very comfortable bed, giving but not too soft. The covers were plush, sleek and felt good on her overheated skin. She fought the sleep, so the words slipped out, "... and you are one."

Miranda rolled over on her side, her expression serious, and laid her hand on Andrea's hip. She gazed a long time at the younger woman, before answering. She did not say maybe or I suppose so. She did not act as if she were playing a game. Andrea returned the gaze just as seriously, not quite at the point of belief, but wanting to listen and be open to whatever Miranda might say. Finally, she provided an answer. " Yes. I believe we've established that. "

"Are there other kinds of beings ? I mean besides Dragons. Like... I dunno, Elves?"

"Yes."

Andrea blinked, she was so very tired, but now she was interested. "High elves?"

"Yes."

"I played D&D once. Or a few times. They had Drows. Do Drows exist?"

"They are elves, Andrea."

"Point. Wait. You know what a Drow is."

"I have been around long enough to learn many things." Miranda drew Andrea closer, holding her lightly. "What are you trying to ask?"

"What I should be looking for. Good guys. Bad guys. I think, if there is a world with Dragons, that must mean there are things I haven't been seeing, right? Or it would be in the newspapers. We'd be Harry Potter."

Miranda smirked, "You did that so well."

"Well, I had help. But looking back on it, maybe I should have just quit."

"No. Andrea. Don't say that."

"Alright. So. Elves. Dwarves. Flying monkey men."

"Flying monkey men?"

"Um. I'm not sure where that came from."

"This is not Oz, Andrea."

"I find that only just a little reassuring. Oz had some scary ones."

"True."

"So. Since we're on the topic of scary. Vampires?"

Miranda stilled and said, "Yes. They are not to be trifled with."

"Do Dragons fear Vampires?"

"No, Andrea, we do not. But neither do we tempt them."

"They're pretty tempted about a lot of things though. Like tasty blood. Garlic still bad for them?"

Miranda could not hide her amusement. "No." She arched a brow. "But know this, Andrea, If a Vampire dared touch you, without my express permission, I would tear them apart. Nothing would be left of them. I would destroy their Nest, so all would know not to touch that which was not theirs. "

The fierceness of Miranda's words caught Andrea's breath. Her eyes were so blue, nearly glowing, a light in the dark. How had she not noticed that before. Then she thought, "Wait. What about my express permission?"

"We will discuss it later. After you feel better and you can negotiate in ... confidence."

Andrea's hands pressed against Miranda's shoulders and she pushed back lightly. "You really mean that."

"Yes. It is only right."

"But you'll talk about being a Dragon with me now."

"You're more receptive to the idea now. If I waited until you felt better, you'd resist, but now, when you recover, you'll be more accepting."

"Oh." Andrea paused, absorbing that thought. She couldn't fault the reasoning. Then she had another thought. "You keep saving things for later. But, what if, right now, I said I wanted a kiss. You know, because... because I don't know when I'll wake up. Would you consider it? It doesn't have to be real..."

"Shhh." Miranda drew Andrea closer and pressed her lips against the younger woman's forehead. The brunette sighed lightly, enjoying the cooler touch; basking in it. Her eyes closed. Miranda kissed both eyelids gently.

Andrea whispered, "Miranda."

Then she felt a light pressure on her lips, soft, but firm; lingering. She opened to the kiss, absorbed it. It was balm and connection all at once. She felt the stirrings of a summons, a hint of compulsion to take it further. But Miranda pulled away, with a shaky breath. "Andrea?"

"Yes?"

"Go to sleep."

- TDWP -


	2. Chapter 2

"Honestly, " Cruella De Vil, fashion maven, slammed the gaming magazine down on her desk with a loud smack, fuming enough that steam seemed to rise from her nostrils. It wasn't that she did not understand leisure time, and that there might be those who enjoyed escape in video gaming. She had nothing against the animated sport, though she personally found video games to be dreadful wastes of time. What she hated was that there was one particular game out there, which seemed to be gaining notoriety. The reviews were good for it. Bad, however, for her and her House. " Who lives like that ? Who would take such a game so seriously ?"

Actually, the answer was held in two places. First, she had to take it seriously, and second, the truth was in another article within the magazine. Video games were ubiquitous. The Nintendo generation had grown up with games, passed the joy of it to their children, who had grown up with MMOs and click-through Facebook games. And, someone. .. Correction: Roger Dearly, and his wife, Anita, had taken her name and likeness and made her out to be a villain of comical depravity.

Her lawyers, well aware of the problem, informed her that it was only a matter of time before they could get the sanctions in place and start the process of suing. Though, really, it was already too late and might as well be forever now. The game, and its horrible, all too catchy theme song, had gone public before the injunction had gotten through. Her Public Relations Department had bumbled from the beginning. They, of course, were gone ; fired for incompetence. She had no one to replace them yet and wasn't entirely sure she should bother with it. The damage, as they say, was done. Cruella's reputation, and her daily life, were in tatters.

People she did not know approached her at odd moments. Some would sing the song at her, taunting her like they were all still in primary school. Some accused her of terrible things, as if completely unable to distinguish between what was real and what was not. She had even once been splashed with red paint, the indignity compounded by the fact she had not even been wearing fur that day. Were it not for the fact that she really was only in the public view for short moments of time, it would be a much more dangerous circumstance. Not for her ; for them. Every now and then she would slip the leash of self-control and scare off the stalkers and the miscreants with well-placed jabs and terrifying screaming fits, often miraculously punctuated with thunderous lightning. This did not exactly redeem her in the eyes of strangers and only appeared to prove Anita's damning point. On the other hand, Cruella did tend to feel a little better after a good old-fashioned ignorant-git-thumping. They were lucky she only did the small punishments. It could have been so much worse. She was not a woman who felt obliged to play fair in a fight.

Cruella had been in the public eye, off and on, throughout her life, so she was not entirely unable to cope. She knew that she would survive the catastrophe. She had survived other events, in many shades of exposure, from catastrophic to sublime. She much preferred sublime. However, between the notoriety of her family, her business, her designs and her personal life, there was always something to catch the eye of the press. She was aware that she should strive to stride through it, as if she were above it all, until it hopefully blew over or something even more amazing took its place. Staying above the excitement was no easy feat, however, as she was a woman of passion and owned a scorching temper that just happened to have a true bite to it. She partially dreaded the day some paparazzi pushed her too far. She also somewhat looked forward to it, as it was a long time coming. She was frayed at the edges and she could feel the violence in her prodding for a thorough, blood-filled, earth-torching, flesh-rending venting. She had more than once considered putting stakes out in front of her estate and plunging heads, real or fake, she hadn't yet decided, on them.

Perhaps she should have gone ahead and done some puppy-napping. She was certainly paying for it anyway. Not that she had anything against the little yappers. She didn't dislike dogs. She simply didn't need them. Nor was she at all interested in stripping some dog of its fur, as there were so many better alternatives that were equally enjoyable, if not quite as authentic. The science of softness and texture was catching up to her sensory needs.

Bengal tiger, now, that had tempted her, especially when she saw how beautiful and powerful the beast was. She envied the creature's freedom to prowl around and be fierce. Even so, times had changed and she had a closet full of fur coats, both faux and real. They were a comfort, especially in winter, as she ran a little colder than most. She was often seen wearing a jacket or high fashion coat, even during summer. Air conditioners may be a modern necessity, but they were often set too low for her to appreciate them beyond the first gasp of relief from heat.

Anita, at the end of her term of employment, in her most paranoid aspect, had accused Cruella of wanting to steal her puppies and skin them ; simply because the head designer had made the mistake of admiring a drawing and adding to it. The cloak had been a brilliant idea, of course, and Cruella had been entirely within her right as the employer to make the change. But Anita had taken it oh, so personally, and the small jibes about where one might acquire spots had begun. Her petty jokes and accusations had not stopped, and had eventually escalated, even when Cruella had pointed out that her company had switched to synthetics a long time ago. Money helped push that forward quite a bit. Her faux furs were among the most authentic in appearance and feel for a reason. Yes, they did still tailor real fur, but that was couture - an individual market and something completely different. But her patient explanation had little impact. Anita's nonstop prodding regarding the matter had led to job termination.

It was all so bipolar, and unrealistic anyhow, as if Cruella would switch out a whole season of work in tiger-stripes to immediately begin with spots. Not that a season of spotted textures couldn't have happened for next year or the year after. They possibly still might be able to run with the concept, if Anita could be stopped. The fashion maven did technically have the legal right to the idea, whatever Anita might say while she was out in the world adding to Cruella's troubles.

Cruella De Vil was in her late thirties, the daughter of very wealthy parents, both from of old houses of nobility. They retained the titles, but had given her the name of their house to nurture and guard until such time as she either inherited theirs or earned her own. The responsibility had been her honor, one which brought her pleasure. She had been doing so well, with her private ventures, wide range of investments, design work, and careful establishment of connections in an industry prone to quick rises and falls. And now this ; this train wreck, with no end in sight, shook the foundations of the whole of her efforts. A potent stubborn streak was all that kept her from folding it all in and handing what was left to her parents. Whatever punctures in her pride, however, she was not down yet. Not by a long shot.

Cruella had always been a unique person, with a very distinctive look and so, was easily identifiable ; easily targeted. She was fair-skinned and remained so whether she spent time in the sun or not. She never burned, but neither did she tan. She was of average height, womanly in curve, but not prone to had perfect balance and could run in high heels without fear. Her eyes were amber, which would shade grey or gold depending on her mood. Her nose was straight. Her teeth were perfect and her smile could turn from charming to draconian in an instant. She could wear classic or extreme fashion with equal aplomb and elegance and somehow always make it her own. She was exceedingly intelligent and energetic, enjoying both sport and learning new things. She drove like she designed, with a near obsessive and perilous intention to reach her goal ; whatever it might be. She had a fierce tenacity and one targeted her at their peril, as that tenacity was part of her very long, very high resolution, photographic memory. She could remember and re-create every page she had ever read, every drawing she had ever seen. It had made college a breeze, but secondary school difficult.

Her hair had always been two-tone, from birth. It was possible that the depth of color of her hair could be mistaken for a dye job, since the part was so exact and straight down the middle. The black was raven black, deep and dark to a near blue in some lighting, while the white was driven snow white, nearly glimmering with its shine. But it was all too real ; fundamental to her nature, hide-able, but not changeable.

She had been less enamored of her uniqueness in her youth. When she was younger, it was easy for others to make her regret her differences. Her first method of improving life's conditions had involved brawling, and she had plenty of opportunity to perfect that skill and had blackened quite a few eyes and broken many teeth and noses, and even a few kneecaps. Despite demands from sundry schools, her parents backed her, which was one of the few saving graces of her life, and they, understanding her troubles, had gone so far as to purchase tutoring in a variety of means to improve her circumstances. As she matured and had more means at her disposal, she employed more subtle techniques ; one might even call them stylishly pointed. By the time she was a teen, she had learned to defend herself with wit, skill and dangerous cleverness, which had earned the obvious and not-original nickname: Devil. This did not mean that she didn't try to somehow blend in at least once or twice. It was, after all, the nature of growing up to try new things.

Where others were taking on aspects of goth and chains, Cruella's rebellious phase had been to dye her hair blond, wear pastels and flimsy florals, and tell people to call her Ella. That only worked to a point. She fit in, but only in brief spurts rather than in long-term ways. She eventually realized that she would never make a good blond. The phase only lasted a few seasons, as she inevitably found out who her few true friends were and that their loyalty apparently had nothing to do with hair color. The evocation of sunshine and rainbows as a disguise had driven her parents to distraction, since they adored her uniqueness and loved the name, as inconvenient as it might be for Cruella. It was a family heirloom, from a more primitive past and they could see no shame in it. Finally, she understood that what made her visible to others was more than her looks or her background and she was forced to accept that she would always be herself. She went back to her natural coloring and started finding out what style really worked for her and that was what led her to discover fashion.

" I...I beg your pardon ?" Alonzo queried. The man standing before her desk, her assistant, was a very nervous person, easily startled and prone to shaking at the oddest moment. He was bald at the top, had brown hair in a kind of wreath around his head and sideburns, artfully trimmed. He wasn't an unattractive man, a little round, but wore stylish clothes. Though she was aware of his crush on her, he was not exactly Cruella's type. So far no one was, though she had tried now and then. His nervous tics were bothersome, but he was also extremely loyal, which was one of the reasons she kept him and a few sundry others close by.

"Do I really look like a woman who would kick puppies ?" She raised her hand, " No. Don't answer that. I know what people say. " She turned in her chair so she could examine her shiny black leather, very pointed, stiletto boots. They did look good. Next time she might try to find a pair with a silver tip at the end; something deliciously deadly looking. If she was going to be painted as the villain, she might as well look the part. A quick vision of possible new designs fluttered through her mind. She hummed with pleasure, then shook off the momentary distraction.

" Have we heard from the lawyers today ?"

"N-No, Ms. De Vil. "

"The detectives ?"

"N-No, Ms. De Vil. "

She turned abruptly, to face him again. He jumped back a little at the expression on her face as she said, very sharply and a little more loudly, " Anyone ? Anyone at all ?!"

He blinked at her, tried to find connections, then remembered he had an envelope in his hand. He extended it towards her, pinching it between thumb and fingers as if extending a bit of meat to an alligator.

She snatched it from his fingers with a quick snap of the wrist. It was so fast he almost missed it. He exhaled in a stutter, while she picked up a sharp letter-knife and, in one swipe, cut the envelope open. She shook out the letter, letting the thin white folded paper rest in her palm for a moment. " What's this ?" she said softly.

Alonzo cleared his throat, " I.. I believe it to b-be an i-i-invitation, Ms. De Vil. "

"I see. " She stared at it, finally exhaling, and opening it. She scanned it, then set the paper on her desk, holding it flat with her palm, and sat back. " New York, " she said flatly.

"N-N-New York, Ms. De Vil ?"

"You were correct, Alonzo, it is an invitation. " She pursed her lips, thoughtfully, her amber gaze a touch worried. " December 27th through January 2nd. The main event to be New Years Eve. The Regency. Do remember to schedule it in, will you ?" Not that she would forget. "I can not refuse."

"B..but... you rarely refuse anyway... "

She waved her hand, freeing the small document. " That's different. I go to those for fun and amusement. This, on the other hand... " She looked pensive, staring out at nothing.

" Ms !" Alonzo pointed at the desk, where the paper had begun to turn black, smoking and crumpling into a burn. The combustion continued its progression until the whole invitation crumbled, then broke into ash.

" Oh my. " She glanced up at Alonzo. " This is going to be an adventure. " She gave a wry grin. " Well, at least it gives me something else to worry about. " She tisked, " Like I needed another thing to worry about. "

"Y-Yes, Ms. De Vil. "

She rolled her eyes and then sat back. " Alonzo, I'm out for the next few hours. Maybe the rest of the day. Can you handle things here ?"

"Of..of... course. "

"Good man. I want to see the boards tonight. All of them. "

This time it was Alonzo's brows which rose. " All... all... "

"My designers have been hard at work, have they not ?"

"Well, yes... "

"Then make sure their work gets to me, one way or the other. Is that so difficult ?"

"N-N-No, Ms. De Vil. "

Cruella stood up in one sleek, feline motion. " I'll be at the gym. That will be all, Alonzo. "

She shook her head as she watched him scurry away. Then she looked at the blackened char on her desk. " Well. This ought to be interesting, indeed. "

- TDWP -

The gym was a swanky, high-class affair, with wood paneling, mirrors to the ceiling, brass light holders, broad windows that let in the light, and a sense of history. Only the richest of the rich used it. The building itself was quite old, though the interior had long ago been modified and updated. The gym was split up into separate rooms, each for different activities. Modern lifting and stretching equipment occupied one gigantic space. Dance and exercise floors took up other spaces. A swimming pool provided cool activity in the summer and warm activity in the winter. Finally, there were a few all-purpose rooms, one of which was dedicated more or less to the fencing arts. This was the room that Cruella currently occupied. It was empty of others, perhaps because she was so pointedly attacking a stuffed dummy with a saber.

Her mood was horrible, but her form, at least, was perfect.

She found a certain rhythm, striking hard and fast, brutally. She put all the ways she hurt and all the ways she raged into the exercise. She held back nothing at all, seeing the blood run in great pools in her mind's eye. The gym was her venting space, her place of refuge and without it, the rants which already terrified her staffers, would have turned into something much more searing, visceral and horribly awesome. She imagined people hanging in chains in her very real dungeon. Her ancient home had a history and not all of it was pleasant; there was a reason it was named Hell Hall. She imagined flaying the skin of protesters and wearing them as coats and felt little in the way of personal revulsion. The stuffing on the dummy fell to the floor, like a flurry of snow. After a certain point there was no more cushion left and she was striking chips off the wood mannequin. It's possible she would have carried on, but something in her finally gave and she could breathe without wrath. She stopped and dropped her sword hand to her side. She stood motionless, saber at rest, staring at the mutilated object as if she could parse her future in it.

She heard footfalls, drew breath through her nostrils and stiffened. Wiping her face of expression, she turned, not willing to leave her back to the door and suddenly very grateful she'd had the chance to pour out her emotions before this unexpected visit. She stepped back instinctively and glanced around, trying to keep all paths open. Then she forced a pleasant aspect to her posture and waited.

Lord Reginald Buckley was beautiful. She had to give him that. For an Englishman he was surprisingly golden. His hair was a shimmering blond. His body tan and fit, wearing the fencer's outfit with grace. He was immaculate and had a right to his strut. His scent, god help her, was amazingly alluring, even though there was a hint of something that utterly repelled her in it.

She knew what it meant, ultimately. He was poisonous. No good for her, at the very least. She had been accused many times of being a viper, but she always thought Reginald's disguise as an ordinary man was much more snake-like. Like the king snake and the coral, it could be hard to tell the good from the bad based on looks alone. Both kind were beautiful and both had their own dangers. She could not recall an encounter with him that had ever been for the good.

Nevertheless, social mores demanded she be polite, if not respectful.

"Ah, Cruella. Lovely as ever, I see."

She nodded and said, without smiling, "Reginald." She was suddenly glad she had not set her saber aside yet. Her hand flexed around the hilt, gripping it tightly. She forced herself to relax. "What brings you here?"

"Why, an invitation. And a suspicion you might be here. Tell me, did you receive yours?"

She arched her brow, refusing to reveal anything.

He took it as an answer and waved his épée carelessly. "Ah, no matter, you will receive it and find out soon enough. This New Year brings a Dragon's Ball" He smiled wolfishly, his eyes alight with anticipation. "Hasn't been one in ages and ages, but imagine what it will be like." He began to stretch, still smiling a horrible smile. He said, as if sharing an innocent historical fact, "In ancient days, you know, it was a time of selection and mating."

She kept her expression neutral, maintained a moderate tone. "Things change, Reginald. We are in a modern age. And you know very well, a Dragon's Ball is more like a convention. It will be workshops and politics, games and merriment, fashion and masquerade. And yes, the ball. But the days of forced selection are over." She could even have told him to a near degree, the year it stopped, based on family gossip. It had been a scandal, where a selected cousin had been rejected in favor of a much weaker choice. Not that the cousin hadn't made the Queen Dragon pay for her decision. But that was a long time ago and had nothing to do with her.

"Ah, but it's all about politics. Who is chosen. Who is not. It would be wise to take a companion with you to the event, don't you think?"

Cruella drew breath through her teeth and barely refrained from declaring never. "Perhaps for you," she allowed. "I, if I should receive such an invitation, shall go solitary. Barring, of course, my people."

He straightened, his expression tightening until Cruella spotted that aggressive glaring pout of his. That was the first indication that there might be a sting, right there. He so did not like not getting what he wanted. Then he smiled. It was not, never had been, a nice smile. "It's not like you'll have much choice, you know. A gathering like that, it will have influence on those present, and leave some with very few options. You'll be surrounded, Cruella. And I know that it will be your first time." He laughed falsely, unkindly. "At the ball, that is. You best prepare yourself. You've heard the tales, like I have. The wantonness that takes over. The things they do, so that you'll have so little control. And you'll be anyone's for the taking. Anyone at all."

She cut him off, with a wave of her hand, and turned away so he could not see the flush that threatened. It was anger, not turn on, though she knew he would have difficulty telling the difference. "I have little time for porn, Reginald. And less time for fantasy." She did not mention that she had been to a ball before, as a small child. It had been the first time she had realized there might be others like her. She'd had real playmates for a brilliant brief span of time. It was all very bright and confusing and, yes, innocent fun. It wasn't until she was older that her parents had explained the complexities of the ball. It was so much more than Reginald was making it out to be.

He stepped closer, far too close for comfort. But she held still, as if he really was a viper set to strike. "Even so. Even if you don't go. All I have to do is wait, Cruella. After all, I am a true Dragon Lord. " He hissed at her cheek. Her expression remained distant and cold, controlled, unmoved. " Your time is coming. I can smell it on you. You won't be able to resist me then. I will have you. "

Finally, she sneered and answered him with a truth; one he probably found most inconvenient. "Or a Dragon will. Or another Lord or Lady will. Or perhaps, I may find true love by then. Really, Reginald, you are entirely much too smug. " She turned in such a way that he was forced to back away quickly. The sword was now between them. " And I will have choices. You are not the only one to exist. Merely the nearest. " She flicked her gaze over him and then grimaced in displeasure, flicking her saber in his direction as if discarding him. Then, as if she could not stop her mouth, she said something that had been on her mind a long time, and most impolitic. " You may call yourself a Lord, but what you really are is a poacher, born of a family of poachers. I know how you and yours gained your nobility and I won't be party to it. " She knew as soon as the words were out that there would be no retreating. She could not make herself regret it.

His face turned aggressively red. His cheeks puffed out. It was as if she were finally seeing his true face and it was most unbecoming. He flung his arm down, smashing the épée against a padded thigh. " I will have you broken. You will beg. You will beg for me and I'll let the vermin have you first, second and third. I'll let them pass you around, and then I'll breed you to the lowest Dragon I can find, before ever touching you. Then, I will make you suffer as you have never suffered before."

She stepped forward, quickly, motioning the sword so it pointed directly at his heart. He glanced down, suddenly noticing that her saber was unguarded and the point very fine. He moved back and back until he was against a wall. She hissed at him, now vibrantly angry, and spoke in the sharpest of whispers. " You will lower your voice. This is neither the time or place. If you keep on speaking to me that way I will surely run you through and your ambitions will be decidedly over. Are we clear ?" A part of her wanted to do it anyway, could see no flaw in the plan except this vague sense that others might find it wrong, even though it was so strongly provoked. She had no choice now, but to carry through.

His mouth snapped shut and his glare faltered. She knew he would do his best, later, to make her pay for that show of weakness. But not at the moment. She would finish what she had to say.

" It is obvious that your keepers have failed to detail the realities of your so-called lordship, or you would have saved your diatribe. I should save all of us the trouble of your future mistakes. " She hissed at him and said, quietly and vehemently, " Unlike you, I was taught what it means to be in the society of Dragons. And more importantly, what it means to be of De Vil. I know the rights and the responsibilities and not one of them make me anyone's pet at any time. Do not tempt me, Reginald. You can threaten and connive, but if you force my hand, I will follow through and destroy you like the cur that you are." She poked his chest lightly with the point of the saber, making tiny, but deep little cuts in his white padded jacket, with each emphatic word. Then she stepped back. " Lord Buckley, it is time for you to go away. "

"Ahem, Ms. De Vil, is there a problem ?" An stern looking security guard stepped into the room, his hand on the taser wand at his side.

" No, " she said firmly. " I believe our discussion is quite over. "

"Ah. I see. Well, Lord Buckley if you might let me escort you. I believe your ride is waiting. "

"My ride ?"

"Sir, " the security guard said firmly. " We do have cameras and policies. " He glanced between the two of them meaningfully. " You are excused from the premises for the time being. "

Cruella made another cut in Lord Buckley's jacket as he purpled again. He looked as if he might do something rash. " Don't. " Then, when he continued his foolishness, she pressed in, with surprising control, until he blanched. Her lip curled into another snarl and her gaze firmed. She would do it. She would, and feel no remorse at all.

He moved then, as if suddenly realizing the danger he was in.

She continued to hold the sword up, kept it pointed at the blond, even as he squeezed by and around her. She did not drop the saber until he and the security guard were long gone. Then she walked to one of the benches and sat down shakily. She carefully wiped her sword, mostly a symbolic act, and sheathed it. After placing the sword on her lap, she looked at the small dot of red on the cloth and felt a vague sense of disappointment.

Then she shuddered; her expression grim. She was not invulnerable. Worse, Reginald's taunts were not entirely untrue. Her time was coming. Humans called it a biological clock, but theirs was a gentler impulse and easily diverted. She had been given another name for it. For her kind it was much more urgent and demanding and somewhat frightening. Not that children had to arise from the advent of a cycle, but the overpowering impulse, that ... that was something she dreaded. And the dilemma was that choices there might be, but prospects... that was a whole other thing.

She laid the saber in her lap and breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. Then slumped. This, on top of everything else. " Damn. I am in trouble. "

She lifted her head tiredly when the security guard came back. He paced toward her, his expression concerned. Then stopped and indicated the space beside her with his eyes. She nodded once, scooted over some.

He sat down, oddly graceful for an older man. Silence stayed between them for a moment, and then he spoke, gently. " You need bodyguards, Ms. De Vil. That sort, once they start, they're like a dog with a bone. Or, I could bring in the authorities. "

"That won't be necessary. I can defend myself. " She almost said it was none of his business, but perhaps it was.

"This isn't about defense, Miss. It is about being preemptive. " Again there was a silent pause. It stretched out. She felt a calmness emanating from the guard and she drew upon it, carefully, striving to experience it without leaching. Cruella finally took a deep breath and her shoulders eased. Then, he continued, "I can recommend two very capable guards. They are good at what they do. And they are discreet. " He scratched behind his ear. Cruella noticed that it drew up into a point at the tip and drew in a shaky breath of relief. He was an Elf, friend of the Dragon. Perhaps she could take the advice. It had meaning, coming from someone like him.

" I see. "

- TDWP -

The gentlemen that Alonzo allowed into the ornate White Parlor of her estate were not what she expected. One individual was very lean and tall, with brown hair, and the other short and stout, with ginger hair. They were both scruffy and unfinished in appearance, dressed in workman's clothes and possessing rough hands. Their individual grips, however, when they took her hand to shake it, were surprisingly gentle; respectful. The credentials they offered, though they looked anything but like guards, indicated that they were the persons being recommended.

"Please," she said, as she motioned towards intended destinations, "Have a seat." As they settled, she turned her attention to her manservant. "Alonzo."

He stared at her, looking a bit like a deer in headlights. Several heartbeats passed before she said, strongly, "Tea, Alonzo!" He jerked into motion and began clattering around the silverware. She watched him with consternation, until she was finally able to drag her attention back to the guests. Alonzo was going to have to fend for himself.

She smiled slightly at the strangers, and glanced at them meaningfully.

They were quicker on the uptake, looked briefly at each other and then, as if some secret communication had been accomplished, the tall one spoke first. "I'm Jasper," he said, indicating himself with his thumb. "And this is Horace. " There was a certain elegance to the way he indicated his friend, but the way he sniffed and clutched his hat afterwards destroyed that thought. "We have been sent to assist with the things you need assisting in, Ms. De Vil." He smiled briefly at Alonzo, set down his hat and took up the teacup. Then, with delicate precision, drew the cup to his lips.

Her gaze narrowed, as if trying to see through layers. "I see. You do realize in my profession I have appearances to keep?" And not just in her profession, but it was the easier example to use.

Jasper looked offended, while Horace merely appeared dumbfounded. "Of course, Vil. We should never like to cause offense, but we are just two handymen. Always around, working and doing. Yes. "

"Then you can do something about the yard ?" Her lips twisted in a reptilian smile of amusement. The yard was really the vast, tortured landscape that surrounded her ancient abode. It hadn't had proper care in years beyond the most basic and local to the mansion and could, with its ancient statuary, be a candidate for a Hollywood horror movie setting. She understood there was even a cemetery somewhere on the premises, but good luck finding it.

Jasper's eyes lit up. " You would let us, Vil? How refreshing. Normally we have to convince our patron of the wisdom. Why, there are things to be set in motion, see. Plants to be planted, lights to be fixed, doors to be warded. Would you be open to hiring some new folk. Special like ? We can find some pretty ones, if it fits your bill better. I suppose henchfolk and minions need not all look like us." He indicated his companion with a whimsical smile.

Cruella was very quick on the uptake. She was beginning to understand the plot. She took the cup that Alonzo offered, but placed it on the small side table beside her without it ever touching her lips. She suspected that neither Jasper or Horace were in as quite bad shape as they appeared. " And should I need you, specifically, to take on a different demeanor?"

"Why, Ms. De Vil, we would make every effort to be, appearance wise, what you needed. At the least." He half-bowed in the chair, and for a glimmer of a moment, Cruella thought she saw a more perfect form, elfin in nature, before it disappeared again.

She narrowed her gaze in thought and then nodded. "And the minions. I take it they would be under your supervision ?"

"Why, they shall be in your employ and do as you say, of course. But it is always good to have persons in charge. And, while we are speaking of minion-y needs, we should speak of a driver Ms. De Vil."

Horace finally added some verbal input, "Perhaps two, Ms. De Vil. One always on call."

"I...I...I drive Ms. De Vil," Alonzo protested as he set the tea service down at last and the shaking clatter of his nervousness stopped.

Jasper looked Alonzo up and down and then down and up. " Sorry mate. You're a bit too scrawny for the job. "

"Ss...sss... scrawny !" He couldn't decide whether to be flabbergasted or flattered.

" No. The creatures... pardon me... the individuals... we have in mind would be what Ms. De Vil needs at the moment. Just let us see to it. "

Cruella was not entirely unfeeling. She said, "Alonzo has been my manservant and assistant for a long time and has done his work with pride and loyalty. "

Alonzo blinked, turned to stare and then beamed a slow smile of amazement. She ignored him utterly, but Jasper and Horace turned to look at him with closer attention.

Jasper then returned his attention to Cruella. "Of course, Ms. De Vil. We shall talk terms with him and arrange things suitable. You needn't worry about the details a'tall. " The he cleared his throat. " Though, we'll need your schedule. And you'll have to stick tight to it. No wanderin ' off on your own, like. "

"That will not work for me. I go where I please and I do what I please. I need that freedom, both personally and professionally. "

Horace leaned over to Jasper, who leaned down a bit and listened. Then he nodded his head. " We can perhaps arrange something a little more flexible to your tastes. But, " his expression turned deadly serious, " it is very important that you do what we say, when we say it. We won't importune, but if we say duck, you duck. "

Cruella drew in a breath, then said, very carefully and pointedly, "I can not offer you sovereignty over my being. But I can say that I will do my best to listen to your advice."

Jasper flashed a look at Horace, who nodded. "Then we shall be sure to offer our very best advice to you on all occasions."

"That would be satisfactory." Now she did turn the full force of her attention on Alonzo, who took a step back. "Alonzo, I have already set aside funds for this change in circumstances. You will manage it, as always, but I will have oversight. I want everything to go very smoothly, Alonzo. I do not wish to have to bring up the topic again."

He gave her a weak smile and bow. "Of course, Ms. De Vil."

- TDWP -

Apparently Jasper and Horace weren't kidding when they said the felt that Alonzo was too scrawny. She encountered her manservant trembling in awe before the very tall, very massive new chauffeur. It was an understandable impulse, one that she did not cave to. Instead, she found herself irritated. "Oh do just stand there Alonzo. It's not as if I have places to be," she snapped and she stalked past them both.

"I'll get the door, Ms. De Vil," rumbled the driver.

She turned, "And you are?"

"Ben."

"Ben, has Alonzo given you my itinerary.?"

"Yes."

"Then let's be about it."

The man's expression slowly registered surprise, as he rarely encountered anyone who didn't exhibit a little awe in his presence, but he did manage to open the door, after a small struggle. His whole hand was bigger than the handle and he was required to pry it open with his index finger and thumb. "Perhaps," Cruella said, "You should let Alonzo open the door for me."

"Can't, Ms. De Vil. Orders. I will see you enter the car and exit. I'll walk you to all doors and stand watch until such time as you are ready to leave again."

"It's... it's... the way it should be, Ms. De Vil," Alonzo agreed; nodding emphatically. "I will meet you at the office."

She glanced between them and finally nodded. Then, without further word, she got into the vehicle.

- TDWP -

Cruella wasn't quite sure how Ben drove squeezed in like that, but he proved useful from the moment she arrived at her first destination. On past occasion when her car arrived, a small crowd would begin assembling. She would step out and the harassment would begin.

This time, a small crowd began assembling, they started crowding as they usually did, and then Ben stepped out. She watched as the onlookers and paparazzi all seemed to take a step or twelve back as one. Then she smiled with wicked glee as Ben glowered at them meaningfully, before he stepped around to open her door. Some actually squealed in fright. Apparently size did matter.

By the time she stepped out of the car and started pacing with catlike grace toward the office building, there was a wide and very comfortable circumference of space between herself and everyone else. She was sure she would have been able to achieve that space herself, but it was so much easier and less aggravating this way. She could get used to this.

- TDWP -

Despite the unpleasantness of her conversation with Reginald, Cruella did gain one thing from it. She realized that she would need a new wardrobe for the Dragon's Ball. She would need all kinds of new outfits and they would have to be impressive. She also realized, as she went over House of De Vil's collection with a very strict eye that she would have to contact several houses to find exactly what she would need. Either that or make them herself. Perhaps she should do a little of both.

She wanted some outrageousness, sensuality, vivid color, sharp edges and spikes. She wanted to stand out from the crowd. She wanted to intimidate and frustrate. If she was to have suitors, she would need to draw their attention and she was prepared to use an arsenal, from sight to scent to kinesthetic pleasures.

Whatever Reginald's intentions and whatever he may try in the meantime, she meant to have choices.

She pressed the buzzer and waited for the up-tick. "Alonzo! Come in here. I want you to take some notes."

Alonzo ran into her office and across its length until he was standing before her desk. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, then readied a pad and pen and waited while trying to breathe normally.

She began drawing on a large pad of paper, using a sharp-tipped black marker, and snapping off quick-shot demands in words almost too fast to follow. "I want an appointment with Cordova, Brenner and Kelly and let them know I will be bringing drawings. I want their best people ready and they had better have a wider selection of materials to choose from this time or I will be very unhappy..." Alonzo wrote as fast as he could, as she continued, and his eyes widened as he watched her produce drawing after drawing in equally quick succession.

His hand was beginning to cramp when she finally began to wind down. A stack of images, all rapidly, but perfectly rendered hid a good portion of her desk now. "... And as no one has found Anita yet, schedule time with Dr. Strudevan. I want several faux coats made and I want them all flavored with something particular. If the world is going to accuse me of something, I have damn well earned the right."

"Oh dear."

"Don't worry, Alonzo, I won't make you kidnap any puppies."

"Of course not, Ms. De Vil."

She gave him a skewed look, "You thought it for just a second, didn't you."

"I... I... Of course not, Ms. Devil..." He blinked and offered a horrified silent appeal for forgiveness and then self-corrected, "De Vil. I would never..."

"Ppffhh. Yes you did, and would, and it doesn't matter. You would do it if I required. That is sufficient." She looked suddenly tired. She waved haphazardly at the drawings, "Take these and put them in a portfolio. Have it done by the time I am ready to go."

She watched as he tried to gather up the drawings carefully. It made him seem so oddly encumbered. Yet, even then he stalled. She flicked her hand at the door. "Go!"

Alonzo skittered away.

Perhaps she really ought to hire a new Public Relations Staff. She wondered if Jasper or Horace knew a good one.

As if thinking the related thought sparked it to life, the phone began to ring. She waited, as always, for her assistant to get it. It rang some more. " Is someone going to get that ?"

She remembered that Alonzo was on a short errand, but surely he would have picked up by now. Perhaps, what she really needed, were more assistants...

" Fine." She muttered with an unhappy glare at the world. "I'll get it. "


	3. Chapter 3

TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 3

When Andrea awakened, she once again sensed that she was not the only person in the room, though no one was on the bed. The sense of presence was on the opposite side, the one leading off the bed; not quite as tall.

She peeked out of one eye, through barely a slit of vision. She wasn't quite ready to commit to light or awake yet.

She saw two red head girls, standing motionless, as if trying not to breathe too hard. She wondered if their mom knew they were in here. Probably not.

She might not feel a thousand percent, but she could tease. "Hello Dragon babies," she murmured. She knew she struck gold when they gasped, turned, as if to run, then dithered. She opened her eyes more. "What time is it?"

They turned back to her as one, and Cassidy proclaimed, "We are not babies!"

Andy didn't smile, and was pretty proud of that fact. "Oh?"

"We're kits," whispered Caroline, as if sharing a confidence.

"Kit Dragons?"

"No." Cassidy rolled her eyes.

"Dragon kits," Caroline gently corrected. Then, hesitantly, she laid a hand on Andy's shoulder, just to pat it at first. But her hand seemed to stay there of its own volition. Her eyes widened as Andy sighed, smiled and closed her eyes again.

"Dragon kits. I like it."

"How can you always tell us apart?" Caroline asked, quietly.

Andrea didn't answer. She had fallen back asleep.

- TDWP -

"Mom!"

"Mom!"

"Mom!"

"Mom!"

Miranda, dressed in designer jeans and a red polo, covered by an apron, was standing by a counter in the kitchen, preparing lunch. She paused with knife in hand, and turned to face the calamitous rush of her children. "Why, my darlings, are you stampeding and trumpeting around the house?" She peered down at them sternly.

The center counter, where plates and cups were set for three persons, provided an adequate block to their haste and they seemed to both collide and slide into their chosen seats with strangled grace. Miranda shook her head, and began setting out the food. The snow outside was piling higher and deeper. It was very rare that Miranda could play hooky from work, even for legitimate reasons. It seemed only reasonable to let today be a comfort food day. Chips, soup, sandwiches, and something to drink was on order.

Cassidy said, "We saw Andy."

Miranda delivered an arch look towards her children, "Did I, or did I not, say she was to be undisturbed?"

Caroline flicked a look at her sister and said, "We didn't disturb her. We just wanted to see her. It's been..."

"A year!" Cassidy said. The she shrugged and picked up her sandwich. "She's looked better."

"Yeah, bed head doesn't do anyone any favors. Besides, she went right back to sleep."

"Yeah. Like gone."

Miranda carefully set down her portion and said, fairly mildly, with just a hint of warning in her voice, "So you did wake her."

"No. I mean, I don't think we did. I think she was waking anyway."

"She called us Dragon babies!" Cassidy's offended tones carried.

"Well," said Miranda, "if you had not been in the room, she might not have had cause." Perhaps she wouldn't have to correct her children this time around.

"We told her we were kits." Caroline offered just shy of a challenge.

Miranda calmly finished what she was doing, and said, "Did you?"

"That's when Caroline touched her shoulder and Andy went to sleep." Cassidy tilted her head back and mocked snored.

Caroline snapped her fingers. "It was like that."

"Mmm," Miranda nodded. "I think she has been very tired for a long time."

"Kind of like you?" Cassidy asked.

Caroline cocked her head, "Yeah. You got sleep last night. You're much perkier today."

Miranda's brows lifted. It could not be said that her daughters were unaware. She mused briefly that long hours, the divorce, sundry other normal difficulties and, she now believed an added element, had left her feeling drained through most of the year. She backtracked the point of origination quickly, could practically name the day. She shrugged softly, before sliding into the seat at the end of the counter. It put her between her daughters so she could look at them both. Then considered that she should keep the answer simple. It wasn't that it was too complicated to explain. It was simply too soon to say if it were true. "Possibly. It has been a difficult year. So, somewhat the same, somewhat different. Andrea has had her own challenges I am sure."

"Well. Yeah. It's always different," Cassidy proclaimed.

"She's one of them," and the way Caroline said the word, imbued it with a depth of inescapable meaning. "One of the special ones. Isn't she?"

Miranda set her glass down, grateful she had not yet partaken of the drink. She looked at both her daughters, one at a time. She could have gone into denial, but that was not how her household ran. "You are not to say anything to her of it. I am still not sure. She may simply be sensitive. If she is one of the rare few, then when it is time, I will tell her."

Caroline clapped her hands to her mouth, while Cassidy dropped her sandwich to her plate and laid her hands flat on the table as if the burden of the secret was too heavy to carry. "O.M.G!"

- TDWP -

"Andrea, you're up."

"And standing," the younger woman quipped. "Sort of." She was actually leaning against the banister on the bottom stairwell. "Thought I'd take a little walk about. Now I'm pausing." She looked back up the stairs and blanched. "And wondering why I thought this was a good idea."

Miranda paced towards the brunette quickly and looped an arm around her waist. "Come and sit. You can rest down here in the family room for awhile and then we'll go back up together later. I'll have one of the girls get a throw-cover. Do you feel up to eating?"

Andrea waggled her hand and shrugged. As Miranda led her to the family room, she said, "You look really good casual. I mean, really, really."

Miranda's smile deepened briefly, but she said nothing in reply. Instead, she settled Andrea on a large sofa, set pillows behind her back. "Cassidy, will you go get a cover for Andrea? She is going to stay down here with us for a short while."

Cassidy scrambled up from where she had been sitting, tossing her game controller down. Andrea's brief worry that the girl was upset was put to rest almost immediately. "Save my place, Caroline!"

"Sure. Okay." The game on the screen paused. Frozen in time was a cartoon image of a woman with sharp features, crazy eyes and crazy bi-colored hair, clutching a steering wheel with one hand, while waving a long red cigarette holder with the other. Brown smoke curled around the woman, even though it looked like the car she was driving had its top down. She was apparently mid-rant, and Andrea felt some sympathy for whatever or whomever she might be railing at.

"Hey, can I see the case, Caroline?"

The girl looked to her left and right, found the DVD case for the game and picked it up. Then she got up in a swift agile motion. She stepped toward Andrea and extended the object to her.

"Thanks." The journalist looked at the cover, then flipped the case over to read the description. It only took a few moments for her to confirm her suspicions. A gaming friend of hers, one who wrote reviews on the topic, had let her in on the story. Cruella De Vil was a known and notorious name in fashion. Of course, from what she'd seen in Runway, almost all designers had something that made them seem a little crazy and most would kill to be notorious. As she looked at the image on the screen and thought back on the fashion magazine pictures of the heiress, she couldn't help but think that the cartoon did little justice.

She wondered what the fashionista must think about the game and made a mental notation to do some digging. Something had to be online, at least.

As she finished her perusal, she noticed that Caroline was still standing fairly close. Well, perhaps it wasn't anything. She extended the case back towards the twin. "What do you think of the game?"

Caroline, who had been looking at Andrea as if she might be an experiment or had something hideous stuck in her teeth, shrugged. "It's okay. More fun with someone than without."

"Which is why you have the game..." Andrea said, in sudden realization. "I bet you have a bunch of dual-players then."

"Yeah. If we didn't we'd have to have our own separate system."

"Your mom wouldn't let you?" That would be a surprise.

"No. She'd get us one if we asked. But what good is being a twin if you can't team up? If we want to do something on our own, we can always go to our room."

"See, that's kind of what I thought too." That won a smile, which caused Andrea to smile back.

"You started feeling bad when you left Mom, didn't you?"

"I didn't leave your Mom," Andrea felt the need to reply. "I left the job. And my new job isn't prone to putting me in your mom's sphere of influence."

"Right." Caroline rolled her eyes. "So, how did you feel being not near mom. Did you sleep as bad as she did? "

"Uhm. Well, I..." She struggled for diplomacy, figuring that there had to be a much more complicated reason. "... did alright... I felt okay most of the time. And I'm sure your Mom was okay too... There was a lot going on for both of us, I think."

"Denial," said Cassidy as she walked into the room. She gave Andrea the throw-cover. Then took her place on the floor again. "Adults always go into denial."

"Not always..." Why was she defending this? What was she even arguing about? She used the time needed to unfold and extend the throw over herself to think.

Before she could drum up a meaningful answer, Cassidy summoned Caroline to join her in the game. A part of Andrea sighed in relief. Another part was busily processing and trying to understand the girls' logic.

The game started up again, with its cartoon noises and shivery plot and she grew distracted. Andrea watched the girls play quietly for awhile. From a technical point of view, the game seemed both quick to get into and captivating. It wasn't too repetitious, built on skills, and had a few good scares already, even with the short amount of time she'd been observing.

They hit a point that seemed like a good break.

"Do you want to play. We can save here and you can start at the beginning."

She smiled at Cassidy, who was offering her controller. "No thanks, kiddo. I don't think this game is my style."

"Why is that?" Caroline asked with real curiosity.

"Well," Now she hesitated, thinking perhaps it wasn't her place to say. Then, she thought, no, she and the girls may have started rough, but they pretty well stayed straight with each other afterwards. "First of all, I'm more into RPGs and strategy games than shooters. And second, I think this game may be about someone I've read about. I'm not entirely comfortable with that."

Having proved her gaming credentials the girls were even more ready to discuss it. "Oh, you mean Ms. De Vil. Yeah, there's an article in Teen Scene about her and the game. It wasn't really long.

"Did it say whether she liked the game or wanted the game made?"

"I don't think it mentioned anything except that it was kind of based on her and that the game was still cool."

"The game doesn't exactly paint her in a great light. Can you imagine if it had been your mom?"

Their eyes went wide and they both turned to stare at the screen for a second. Then Caroline shrugged and said with a kind of amazement. "Actually, yeah."

Andrea had to give them the point.

- TDWP -

Andrea set her laptop on the small portable desk and turned it on. Feeling once more unrealistically ambitious after a nap, she intended to get started on her article, booted the document up, and the proceeded to stare at it blankly for a few minutes. She leaned back against the headboard of the bed and pressed her hands to her eyes. "I think I may hate this article. Yes, it has become the bane of my existence. It is boring me. If it's boring me, it's going to bore everyone else. Sure, it could save the world, but by that time, everyone would be dead from reading it anyway."

She flopped her hands down by her sides and stared up at the ceiling, until she gradually became aware of the amused presence of Miranda. When had she come in? Probably when she was so volubly raising her cry to the roof. The editor-in-chief had taken a seat on one of the easy chairs and was leaning back in it, legs crossed elegantly. The Book lay on the side table. Andy considered that it seemed to have grown a crown of sticky-notes overnight; probably a near-literal truth. She flushed a little, then gave a rueful half-grin. "Hi."

Miranda said, "Perhaps I should have hired you to write. You, at least seem to understand the problems of the modern editor; to keep a reader's attention, the article must at least be interesting." She tapped the Book with a fingernail. "If only I could get my writers to understand that simple truth, my job would be so much easier." She brought her hands into her lap and, smiled yet another of those predatory smiles that caused shivers to thrill through Andrea, "Now. What do you intend to do about it?"

For a few brief shining moments, Andrea forgot what they were talking about as answers to many different types of questions, none of them on topic and all of them having to do with some notion of ravishing or being ravished, collided in her awareness. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of temptation and forced herself to focus. "I'm going to have to change the game," she said. She looked at Miranda, then at the Book. "You change the game all the time don't you?"

"One might say. They call it staying fresh. But being a good editor is more than just having an eye for detail. A magazine, a business, must have a brand, which is what provides consistency. But fashion, to remain meaningful, must always be in flow." She grimaced, "Unfortunately, some seasons flow a little kludgier than others. It can not be helped. Not everything works. Then it is up to the editor to remove the blocks."

"I wish, in someways, we could have had this kind of conversation earlier."

Miranda considered, "Perhaps. But everything has its time. I don't think either of us were ready. I was too wrapped up in what I saw of you in your position. As were you regarding my position. We have a certain liberation from appearances now."

"Except, that, supposedly, you hate me for deserting ship."

Miranda waved that off. "A trifle in terms of hindrances. It is good to keep options open, even if one hates someone."

"Thus, Jacqueline."

"Thus, Jacqueline. But not Andrea. Not once."

Andrea gripped the cover. "Not once?"

"Perhaps a strong hint of ire, yes, but hate? Never."

Andrea drew in a shaky breath. "Good. That one bothered me. A lot. In ways I can't even ..." She gave Miranda a weak smile and tried to relax. "... If you worried, I never hated you either. Was frustrated, wanted to throttle you sometimes ..." Andrea laughed, "But the problem with that was, I knew if I ever got my hands on your neck, they would want to do things that were definitely unthrottle-ish... " Her words trailed off and her skin took fire again. She shook her head and lifted and looked her hands like they were agents apart from herself. Then, sheepishly, "I... Uh... I."

"Are you ashamed of your desires, Andrea?"

The younger woman's attention flipped back to Miranda with alacrity. It took her a moment to form the coherent thought at the challenge, but she finally arrived at the truth. "No. No I'm not. But I frankly don't know what to do with them. And, you know as well as I, one doesn't go around saying to their ex-boss, 'I find you totally hot.' It's just not done. And especially not done to Miranda Priestly."

Miranda set aside her glasses, uncrossed her legs and recrossed them again in the opposite direction as she sat back in her chair. "Why not? Are you so sure I wouldn't be taking complete advantage of the fact that you are in my bed if you were were in a healthier state? And let us ask this question, would I let anyone else you know in my bed? Perhaps I should phrase it more simply. What question haven't you asked me, Andrea?"

"Why aren't I in the guest room?"

"Because I wanted you here and you needed to be here."

Andrea swallowed roughly. Finally she said, "There you go, changing the game again."

"I prefer to think of it as removing the roadblocks. We have much distance to cover, you and I. We've been apart far too long and it's cost us."

Andrea blinked, trying to pull understanding from that puzzle, but still not quite up to par. "I can't help but think I'm missing whole hunks of ... something. Information. Understanding."

"That's because you are."

"Can I ask something not related to our current conversation? I mean, since we're talking? It's going to sound like I'm avoiding the conversation, which maybe I am. Maybe it has a connection."

"Ask. I'm not entirely convinced it won't be pertinent."

"How long do Dragons live?

"A very long time, Andrea."

"Would other Dragons think of you as young?"

"It would be better for them to think of me as ageless. But to inform, I am by all accounts, young in Dragon years." Miranda's smile was just shy of mirthful. "And by all other accounts, still older than you."

"Doesn't mean I'm going to do what you say, just because you say it." Andrea tossed back. Then, because this was really the heart of what she wanted to ask, "Does the age question offend you? Or worry you?"

"Does it you?"

Andrea considered. "No. It hasn't for a long time. I figured I must've made up my mind about it as soon as I started fantasizing about...um..."

"You don't have to be shy about your desires with me, Andrea. We may not be doing anything about it at the moment, but when the time is right..."

"Oh." Andrea flushed again. Then she grinned at Miranda. "I haven't blushed this much in a long time. Thanks a lot, Miranda."

"Any time, Andrea."

"Back to... why I may be really asking. My parents might not be all that thrilled. I mean, if we... If you and I... See, I painted a kind of rough picture of you for them. I mean, in our previous relationship."

Miranda did not seem all that upset. "I understand. It was perhaps inevitable. Dragons, could cast a charm, if you would like them to."

"On Mom and Dad?" Andrea smiled despite herself, realizing that Miranda was still indulging in the game. She decided to play it straight. "No. They do better when they know the truth. They'll settle down when they see it's for the best."

"Is it for the best, Andrea?"

"Considering it was for the worst before, I gotta say yes."

"That is a point."

- TDWP -

Having given up on the article that might save the world, Andrea opted to start doing a little research. She began with the game, and its myriad reviews, which led her to do some digging on the game's designer, Roger Dearly. "Interesting. He's American."

Miranda had decided to set aside the Book for the moment, and settled beside Andrea on the bed. She was reading the hardback, a non-fiction biography. Once again, she was touching Andrea. This time her hand rested on the brunette's thigh. It was a comforting distraction, and the younger woman blessed and cursed the fact that Miranda's hand was not softly stroking nor straying. At the same time, it anchored Andrea as nothing else had so far today. She felt more present in her skin.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh, the game's inventor, the one the girls were playing. American."

Miranda hummed a few bars of the opening song, without looking up from her book. "Yes. Catchy song."

"Unkind song, if you ask me."

Miranda's attention swiveled to Andrea, who was oblivious. Her tone was carefully neutral. She closed the book, holding it between her hands. "What do you mean?"

"Well, according to this article, this guy Roger claims to have been struggling with villains in his game until," now Andrea air quoted, "... the idea 'just seemed to fall into his lap.' What he doesn't mention, though the article does, is that the major boss in the title bears a striking resemblance to one of London's more, shall we say, visible fashion designers. Which wouldn't have been so bad, except he actually used her name. That has to be illegal. Except, I'm pretty sure he's skating by claiming it's some sort of spoof. Even over the Pond, you have to be careful with that. And it's not like it hasn't had consequences. Take a look at this." Andrea tilted her laptop so Miranda could see a photo of a woman, red paint splattered all over her and her sleek black business suit, expression of shocked long-suffering even as her hands were outspread; the claw-tipped gloves added a fierceness to the ensemble and the photo.

"Oh," Miranda gasped. "It is a shame about the suit." But her eyes were riveted on the whole, not just the suit. Behind Andrea's head, flames flickered behind blue eyes as rage erupted at the indignity inflicted on the fashion maven before she quickly forced it back down. She felt again that instant animal awareness that she always felt at the sight of those unique bi-colored tresses and fierce amber eyes. Although she always, always, made sure that they did not come into face-to-face contact again; too many things would have come undone, too many things frayed.

She couldn't help remembering a much, much younger Cruella and a chance meeting, during a very bad time. It was the sole good memory, if one could call it that. Describing it as merely good was nigh untruthful. The actual event, short as it was, was much more fateful and life-altering, culminating during a disastrous Monarch's Dragon's Ball, a momentous event that occurred every quarter century, where the powers in their world had often shifted by magnitudes, and where her heart had been broken and her ambitions nearly destroyed.

Miranda had kept her eye out for Cruella, even after moving to America. She'd watched the Dragon rise, but dared not do anything else. It had been so hard, rejecting the bond that had tried to form between them. Even now she still felt the sharp longing to reach out through that final tendril that she'd never been able to bring herself to sever. At the time, however, the choice she had made had been better, safer, for them both. She had just been beginning to rebuild her clan's powerbase once again, and Cruella had been so young.

The age difference was not necessarily unusual in the world of Dragons, for most Bonded. In the old days it would merely have been a matter of waiting. No one would have separated them. It would have been simply understood, that what was theirs was theirs. Accepting the bonding, however, would have put the girl in an unacceptable amount of danger. The choice had fallen on her, as the elder, and she made her decision as she always did, instantly. She could burn for it, but she wouldn't regret it.

Besides, she knew the temperaments of their species' colors; each variety held certain passions, ways of interacting with the world that could go to extremes without proper care. These qualities were not exactly set in stone, but one could often make a good guess as to outcomes. White-Gold Queen Dragons such as herself had a certain notoriety among Dragons because of both their extreme rarity and their vaunted icy demeanors. Black-gold were also very rare, as they only appeared after the White-Gold was born. Black-Gold Dragons were nigh on the opposite scale, highly passionate and almost compulsively impulsive. Both kinds were extremely intelligent and quick witted. It was only the foolish and the impaired who underestimated them. They were, after all, Dragons. Very few sets of Dragon colors went in pairs, but those that did required a balancing agent. Without the calming influence of their Lord or Lady, if they mated too soon, their passions would have risen and consumed them. They might have irreparably harmed or even have killed each other. It was not unknown to happen. It was a fate she would never have condemned Cruella too, regardless of how she might feel about the De Vil clan.

Andrea cocked her head, then rolled her eyes at the older woman. "I suppose you could say that. But that suit wouldn't have been ruined if Roger had been more creative." She dragged the laptop back around, but still faced Miranda. "Did I ever tell you why I grew my hair long."

Now she had Miranda's complete attention. The older woman did not say, of course not. She waited for the rest. Andrea's stories had become more interesting to her.

"I started high school with hair so short and spiky, I could have punctured balloons. Summer had been hella hot that year and I was a tree climber and a baseball player and an all around daredevil. You know, a tom-boy. Well, everyone else in the world - except for you - call me Andy." The brunette said that with affection, so Miranda let it slide. "That year started out the same, except there was this group of kids, people I didn't really associate with, but who apparently had decided they were the arbiters of all things standardized and 'normal.' They started elongating my name, started flipping off my hat if I wore one, taunting me by asking me if I wanted to be a boy. I hadn't come into my breasts yet." Andrea smiled as Miranda's gaze strayed a little to the south. Miranda had lent her a pajama set, the top of which did cover all the important bits, but the scoop provided a lush hint of what was underneath.

"Hmm, they are rather lovely."

This time Andrea didn't even try to fight the blush. After all, Miranda would know. She'd seen them in full glory at least once. She lost track for a second then restarted, "It's all about conformity at that age. And, I'll admit it got me. I started getting somewhat intolerable at home, I guess, so Mom cornered me and asked me what the hell was going on; except not quite in those terms. Then she started helping me." Andrea gave Miranda an appraising look before finally offering, "Elias-Clarke's awesome offerings aside, it wasn't my first make-over."

"Oh." Miranda tisked, "That is a pity."

Andrea gave the older woman a sideways glance, but continued with her story. "Well, whatever my fashion flaws, Mom's effort helped for the most part. Except, there were still some who felt like they had things to say. It was my Dad who taught me how to put a stop to that." Andrea made a fist and offered a tiny jab into the air. "When I was ready, I threw down the gauntlet. It was all over in one afternoon. Mom was so mad my outfit got ruined, Dad bought me a new one from his secret fishing buddy fund - you know, the beer fund. It made a dry couple of months for him and his friends, but he wouldn't let me pay him back with my babysitting money. I was suspended from school for three days. Made up all the homework in record time, but after that I was kind of a school hero. My English teacher made me write an article about why I did it, so I did a piece about bullying. The next thing I know I'm on the school paper. The rest is history."

Andrea shrugged, finally turning her attention back to the screen. "Anyhow, my point is that I don't think this was just an innocent deal here. I think Roger knew what he was doing. He targeted Cruella De Vil. The question is why?"

This time it was Miranda's turn to stare at Andrea in amazement. The younger woman felt the strength of that gaze, but didn't look up. It had actually been a lot to reveal about herself. Finally, the older woman said, "You are a wonder, Andrea Sachs."

"That's why you hired me..." quipped the brunette. Then she paused and blushed. "Whoops, sorry. I seemed to have stepped back in time for a second there."

Miranda reached over and grasped Andrea's arm. The younger woman looked up. "First, I realized a long time ago, that was true. If perhaps not something I would ever admit to anyone else, except my soon to be lover. Second, be careful with De Vil. If this Roger fellow made a mockery of her, there may have been a reason." Miranda's expression tightened as bitter memories accompanied her warning. "I've had dealings with that family of Dragons."

Now she had Andrea's attention. "Dragons?"

"They are an old clan, have been around for a very long time." Miranda's grip lessened, but she didn't remove her hand. She closed her eyes briefly, ordering her thoughts, refusing to dwell in that past where her whole world had been up-ended.

"I don't know that one personally. But her kin do not rank among my friends. Her cousins especially not."

Andrea considered carefully. "Are we talking Hatfield and McCoy time here?"

"You always were perceptive."

Andrea looked at the woman on her screen, "Do you want me to drop this?"

Miranda didn't speak for a whole minute. Andrea began closing down pages. "Okay. Okay, no problem." Then her hand was covered by Miranda's.

"Stop. Andrea. Do you feel strongly about this?"

"Miranda, I... Yeah, for some weird reason, I do. I don't know if anything would come of it, but... there is nothing in the press about an official response, which is just strange. And, maybe it's because of that "old clan," thing you mentioned. Maybe they have a rule about waiting stuff out without comment, but..."

"Then pursue it, but do so carefully." She squeezed Andrea's hand, "And keep me informed. I will want to know if I need to get a body guard for you."

"Hah! As if..." The other shoe dropped. "Wait, you called me your soon to be lover." Andrea's attention whipped back to Miranda. "Did I mis-hear that?"

Miranda looked at the younger woman above her glasses. "Let's see. I've let you sleep in my bed. I've slept beside you. We've had long, revealing talks. I already told you that when the time comes, we will pursue it..."

Andrea pressed her hand to her lips and said softly, "You kissed me."

"Yes."

"You mean it."

"I do intend to seduce you, yes. But not right now."

"And why not?"

"Aside from the fact that your attention span is rather jumpy at the moment? I tend to think you might want to have a little more stamina. Dragons need lovers and mates who can keep up."

"Oh." Then Andrea felt heat cover her skin. "Oh!" She opened her mouth to add something, but then the doorbell rang.

- TDWP -

The girls ran up the stairs thunderously, pausing only long enough to wait outside the door-frame of he bedroom. The door was open, so both Andrea and Miranda could see that the twins were anxiously awaiting permission. Cassidy had an envelope in her hand.

Miranda and Andrea still sat side by side. Miranda set her book aside, but did not let go of Andrea's hand. "Come in girls. What have you got?"

"This came through the mail slot." Cassidy said as she brought the letter to her mother. Miranda patted the bed and then took the envelope.

Permission given, both girls crawled on and took a seat.

"There is no way a mailman has gotten through in this weather," Andrea said.

"Didn't say that a mailman brought it," Caroline said.

"True. So, a mystery envelope, brought by someone willing to slog through mountains of snow. Interesting."

"Mmm," hummed Miranda. She finally withdrew her hand from Andreas so she could examine the white object carefully, twirling it on its point between two fingers. "It has a nice texture." She lifted it to her nose, "But no scent."

"Do you like scented envelopes?"

Miranda gave her a sideways glance, "From the right people."

"You shouldn't tease a sick gal. It's not fair play."

"I never said I was fair."

Andrea had to bite back an inappropriate reply, but opted for empty threats instead. "Just wait. One day it'll be an even playing field. I might surprise you."

"One can always hope."

"Are you ever going to open it?" Cassidy said, obviously done with waiting.

Miranda arched her brow at her daughter. She took the envelope in one hand, and raised her index finger on the other. Andrea had a brief moment to admire the perfect pedicure. Then Miranda drew her fingernail across the envelope's edge, cutting it open.

Andrea blinked and said, "Wow. So," she cleared her throat, "Dragons have very sharp nails."

"A given," Miranda replied, as she shook out the contents of the envelope. A thin folded piece of paper fell into her hand. She dropped the envelope on top of the hardback, and then, with some showmanship, slowly opened the document.

"Mom!" Caroline protested.

"What? You're not in a hurry are you?" She said before she glanced down and started reading. She summarized, "House Priestly is cordially invited to bring themselves and their chosen guests and minions to the Dragon's Ball for New Year's." She set her hands abruptly into her lap and looked out at nothing for a brief span of time.

"Miranda? Is everything okay? It's just an invite, right? Do you want me to contact Emily and check for conflicts or schedule a rejection? What do you need?" Andrea began tugging her laptop towards her. She could Skype…

Without a word, or turning her head, Miranda took Andrea's hand in her own again, halting the frantic motion. "It is fine. Some changes in plans are necessary. I will have to cancel a few other previous appointments. It is an event that covers several days."

"So we're going?" Cassidy said, her eyes beginning to widen. "All of us."

Miranda finally seemed to snap out of whatever was occupying her attention. She smiled warmly at her daughters, let go of Andrea, so she could reach for them and draw them in. "Yes, we're all going."

"Well," Andrea laughed. "I don't think you mean all of us..." Then she faltered as Miranda and the twins turned to look at her. She managed a sheepish grin. "Wow, three 'don't be stupid' looks at once, that's got to be some kind of record."

Miranda let go of her girls, and they fell back into their previous comfortable positions. She nabbed the edge of the pajama top she'd loaned Andrea and pulled gently. The brunette moved with the tugging, until she could feel Miranda's breath against her ear. "My dear Andrea, you must come. I think you will find it quite educational. It is a Dragon's Ball, and you do enjoy Dragons, don't you?"

"Well, I do like you. And when you put it that way, how can I resist?"

Miranda kissed her cheek, softly, and made the tiniest lick. "You can't."

Andrea felt that kiss for hours.

- TDWP -

Andrea dug through the laptop case. "It has to be here."

"What has to be where?" Miranda walked into the room, fresh from a shower, robe barely on.

Andrea stopped mid-dig and frankly stared at all the luscious skin and the hint of other things that was suddenly available for perusal.

Miranda repeated herself, slowly, and now with a saunter. "What has to be where?"

Andrea caught flashes which warmed her through and through. "God. Miranda."

"God is in your laptop bag? That is amazing. We shall have to contact our fundamentalist friends immediately. They will want to know."

Andrea managed to drag her attention away from Miranda with a strength of will that amazed even herself. She desperately wanted to see that hint of a strip of curls again. She spoke a little too fast, but clearly on topic, "I am looking for my charger. I need to make a phone call later."

Miranda sat on the bed, and liberated the laptop bag from Andrea's grasp. "You are certain it's in here?"

"I'm almost sure. I wasn't exactly feeling super when things got packed up at my house."

"Dare I ask who you plan on calling?"

"Dare to guess. You can always ask me anything."

Miranda opened the bag and, in mere moments, fished out a black power cord. "I believe this is what you are looking for." She extended it to Andrea, who took it in both hands. "You are going to make calls about your latest gaming interest."

"Got it in one. I figure someone at the fashion house is going to be willing to talk. Maybe not now, but later. I thought I'd charge the phone, nap, and then if I felt up to it, see who answers."

"The plot thickens."

- TDWP -

Andrea felt a gentle prod, then experienced a sense of being covered by another warm, female body. It was much too brief. "It's time to awaken, Andrea, if you want to make that call."

At home she might have dragged the pillow over head. If it had been anyone other than Miranda, she would have ignored the call to wakefulness. But her eyes immediately opened. It was very dark. "Oh. You didn't have to..." She couldn't see it, but she could practically feel Miranda cocking a loaded brow at her. "Right. Right. It's a need to do."

"It seems so. You have the number?"

"I actually have three numbers. One from your files from when I worked with you. I guess someone collected all the possible fashion houses for you one day and House De Vil stayed in your Rolodex. That one is still on my cell phone. Then I found a different one from yellow pages online. And, finally, I got one from Paul, one of my paper sources. I figure one of those numbers have to work."

"I do demand thoroughness from my assistants. And one never knows what will be needed for a shoot. That must have been the DeV entry. I wondered. I thought it was someone you knew."

"You have a shockingly good memory."

"Dragon."

"I think maybe it's just all Miranda. But Dragon helps."

"Flatterer. Now, get out of my bed and remember to warm up your feet before you slide back in later. Oh, and check the weather while your at it. If it's finally stopped snowing, perhaps I'll have Roy come clear a pathway or two from the house later."

Amused, Andrea made her way out of the room. She was halfway down the stairs when she realized she felt much, much better. Still not a hundred percent, but better.

- TDWP -

She took a moment to make a pit-stop first, but eventually found her way to the family room, where she flipped on one of the lamps by the sofa and sat down. She contemplated the cell phone in her hand, not quite stalling, but needing a moment to psych herself up. "Okay, don't blow it Andy."

She started with the number from the yellow pages. It rang, then it stopped, blurting out a discontinued service message. She hung up, crossed that off her mental list. Then she dialed the number that Paul gave her. It went straight to a mechanical message machine, with no way to tell whether it was the correct number or not. Andrea decided to save that one and try it if the number from Miranda's file did not work.

The number rang through. Just as Andrea was getting ready to hang up, a contralto answered. "House of De Vil. Who is calling?"

"Andrea Sachs."

"Ah. An American. How unexpected. And what may you be calling about?"

"Well, a couple of things. First, I was wondering if it might be possible to speak with Cruella De Vil. I understand she's a very busy woman and wouldn't expect immediate access. But if an appointment can be made, I'd be interested."

"I see, and what would the appointment be about?"

"About an interview regarding the impact of malicious targeting in the media."

"Are you paparazzi then?"

"Hmm. I don't take photos, so I don't think I qualify. I'm just a journalist. I work for the New York Mirror and independently."

"Interesting. I frankly don't know if I... if she will be available. But I might be willing to forward a question or two for her review, if you would like."

"Oh. Wow. That would be great. Um. Okay, questions. I can do questions." Andrea stood up and began pacing. "Okay, here's one. Why hasn't her PR Department been out there working?"

"Her PR Department was fired for being incompetent." The words were said sharply, viciously.

"Ah. Reasonable. So she has a new one?"

"Not yet."

"Well, why the hell not?," Andrea paused, coughed lightly, and said, "... Oh damn. Sorry. Look, I've been sick. My socially appropriate filters are pretty much blown right now. I probably shouldn't have called, except, I was doing some research and, well, just tell Ms. De Vil she needs to get some good word out there. If she doesn't want to talk to me, that's fine, but if she can't find a good Public Relations person or something, I know someone who can..." Andrea reeled herself back. "Okay, overstepping there. I can tell. Let me try this again."

"Oh. Please do. This has been quite amusing." This time the voice was softened with a hint of surprised laughter. The speaker was indeed amused, which was a relief to Andy.

"Alright, let's go back to questions. One. What would Ms. De Vil like the world to know at this moment? Two. Is Ms. De Vil really a Dragon?" Andrea slapped a hand to her forehead, rolled her eyes back up into her head, and mouthed a cuss word, before desperately saying, "Scratch that. Scratch that. Scratch that."

"Ms. Sachs..."

"Call me Andy."

"Are you feverish?" A pause extended the question. "Andy."

"Technically, yes. Yes, I am. Miranda keeps dragging me back to bed. But this is important. It isn't right what Roger Dearly has done."

"No. It isn't. But what is done is done. And perhaps you should go back to bed."

"Okay, I will as soon as we're done. Can I still ask a second question?"

"Given how highly amusing it has been so far, yes. I honestly don't want you to stop. It's quite refreshing. Alonzo never lets me get these kinds of calls."

"Alonzo?"

"My manservant cum assistant. He's currently on an errand."

Andrea felt a fresh buzz of heat flush her skin. "And he normally takes these kinds of calls."

"Yes." The woman on the other side of the line offered a throaty chuckle.

"Second question," Andrea said, sitting down again as she finally felt the clue bat smacking her in the back of the head. "Are you Cruella De Vil?"

"Yes, Andy. I am."

"Oh. Boy." She closed her eyes tight, and couldn't find words to fill the gap. Then again, at the moment, she was simply trying to breathe.

"Are you still there Andy?"

"Yes. I'm just trying to melt into the couch right now."

"An impossible feat unless you're a couch elemental, I imagine."

"So far it isn't working, yeah."

"So. Andy, Andrea Sachs, from the Americas. Where do you originate from?"

"Cincinnati, Ohio, but currently living in New York."

"As in the Mirror, yes, you mentioned. And Miranda is your paramour?"

"Yes. Well, we're heading that way. It's a long story."

"I don't know too many Miranda's in New York, other than a rather famous one. Ms. Priestly, of Runway fame. You have perhaps heard of her?"

"You could say..."

Cruella continued, "Then again, I don't know too many people, aside from designers, in New York. Will you and your Miranda be in the city during New Years?"

"Yes. We have a thing to go to, but since we both live here, then yeah, we'll be in town." Andrea was beginning to feel a little less like the universe was wobbling.

"Town. How quaint. I find I am suddenly interested in procuring the services of a good Public Relations service. You have offered to find me someone. Do you think you can procure that information by this time tomorrow?"

"Probably sooner, if you'll give me your email. I have some connections. Wait. I suppose I should have asked for Alonzo's email..."

"Nonsense. You're talking with me."

"Right then. Uhm. We're snowed under here. I forgot to mention. Huge blizzard. Snow piled high and deep."

"I had heard. Perhaps you might send pictures. Of the snow."

"Sure. I can do that." Andrea's heartbeat was even at last. "So, what's your email address?"

"I shall do you one better. I shall give you my phone number and my email address. I can't imagine missing another of these conversations with you." She purred out the name, "Andy."

- TDWP -


	4. Chapter 4

TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 4

When Andrea woke up next, she felt cooler, if not fresher. The shower beckoned and she followed its call, feeling barely wobbly at all and practically, honestly chipper. The dreamy aspect of the past days was still there, but it had been bothering her less and less.

She stopped a moment to grab a set of clothes from her overnight and wondered what, exactly, had happened to original PJs. It was entirely possible that Miranda had burned them, though, probably more likely that they were just somewhere in a wash hamper. The thought that her jammies had met flaming death, however, had amused Andrea. She debated the wisdom of putting on day clothes, but justified it as necessity. She was going to be out in the snow, at least for a little bit. It would probably cut her fever in half.

Yeah.

The shower was bliss, once she got the temperature right. She hadn't been in good enough shape in previous encounters to really appreciate the size and beauty of it. By the time it was done, she felt as if she'd had a great massage and desperately wanted one of these things for herself.

She liberated a fluffy, dry towel and patted dry, before wrapping it around herself. Now it was time to get down to business.

By the time she was dressed, her hair was dry and styled and her makeup on. She realized, as she finalized the look, that this had been one of her secrets. One reason she had managed to live a Miranda-less life, was that she could disguise it. She could fake it.

Now the only thing she was faking, and that was only because she really wasn't, was the fact that she was under-the-weather. Her life, at the moment, was much more Miranda-ful.

She paused at the mirror, considering. "Wow. The difference a day makes."

- TDWP -

"Still warm," Miranda commented as she brushed her lips against Andrea's cheek.

Andrea leaned into that brief kiss, and settled at the breakfast counter. "I know. But things to do, if not places to be. I'll be more productive dressed."

Miranda hummed in understanding. "I agree. Are you planning on going outside?"

"Thinking about it. I promised Ms. De Vil some pics."

"I see."

"You're dying to know." Andrea wasn't really hungry, but she accepted that she might need something to keep up her energy. She nabbed a banana and began stripping it.

"Not dying, simply curious. I haven't had much contact with Ms. De Vil, even professionally." Miranda placed a full glass of ginger ale in front of Andrea.

"She's got a good sense of humor at least. I asked her if she was a Dragon and she didn't bite my head off."

Miranda cocked a brow at her. "You asked her if she was a Dragon?"

"It occurs to me she didn't say no."

"Andrea..." Miranda sat down on the opposite side of the counter.

Andrea raised her hand. "I know. I know. You've been humoring the sick girl, which I duly and truly appreciate. I told her I wasn't feeling my highest best."

"Andrea…"

"So, I think she let me off on that one. You wouldn't happen to know a good PR person, near London would you."

"I know several, but Andrea…"

"Cool. I might pick your brain, if that's okay."

"We need to talk." Miranda said firmly.

Andrea had lifted her glass to drink, but set it down. Her expression turned neutral, attentive. "Okay."

Miranda folded her hands together on the counter top and gazed at Andrea for a few more seconds. "Are you ready to listen?"

"Yes."

"I am really a Dragon, Andrea."

"Miranda, don't call yourself…."

"Andrea, are you listening or interrupting?"

Andrea propped her hands up on the counter, mimicking Miranda's form. "Listening."

"Good. Now, this is very important. Do you remember when Emily was sick while you worked for me?"

"Yes."

"Do you recall ever being sick while at work for me?"

"I…" Andrea considered and then shook her head in the negative. "I think that was one of my better years. Health-wise, I mean. Normally I'm a pretty healthy person, but if I compare that year and this year, then this year has been just utter crap, from a not-feeling good point of view."

"Andrea, return to focus."

"Right."

"The reason you never caught Emily's cold, or anyone else's for that matter, during that year was that you were – for intents, if not purposes – with me. Perhaps not the way we should have been together, but I suspect it was an approximate side benefit…" Andrea was blinking at her, "Don't try to think too hard on this one, Andrea, I'm offering you fact, not fiction."

"Wait. You're saying…"

"I'm a Dragon, Andrea. A living, breathing, Dragon."

"You don't look like a Dragon, Miranda. And, I'm not sure I'm getting the health benefit thing, here. Quite."

"It is fairly obvious that shape shifting would be involved. And magic. You do understand the concepts? You said you played Dungeons and Dragons."

"I did. I did. I'm just …"

"Trying to decide whether you think I'm joking or not. Or whether I think I'm joking or not."

Silence drifted between them.

"You're not joking."

"No. Andrea I'm not." Miranda took a deep breath. "And, I realize you are still not feeling well, but you are feeling better, and we simply don't have time to waste."

"Miranda, I…"

Miranda raised her hand. "Do not move Andrea. Stay right there."

"I… Okay." Andrea watched in puzzlement as Miranda left the room. She gazed down at her glass of ginger-ale and decided as she did not have something stronger, it would have to do. She drank it down, hoping that it would help clear her head and provide a kick-start to her brain.

By the time she set the glass down she still didn't have an answer, but Miranda had returned.

The woman held a thick, white, decorative candle in her hand. "Thank you for waiting for me."

Andrea shrugged. "It's you. Of course I was going to wait."

Miranda, "Meaning, whether you believe me or not, you are willing to lay yourself down to my whim, because I am who I am. To you."

"I think we both know I have a massive crush… No. I think it may be more than that."

"It's more," Miranda said, as she set the candle down on the counter between them. "But that is not important at the moment."

Andrea arched a brow at Miranda this time. "It's not?"

"No. For us to work, for this to work, you must believe. In me. In what I say."

"You want there to be an us."

Miranda's lip curled in a one sided smile. "You always seem so surprised by that."

"I was your assistant, Miranda."

"Details. You were my gorgeous, younger assistant. I'd be the envy of many, if all we were to be was an affair."

"Were we headed that way, Miranda?"

Miranda considered the candle and then looked at Andrea, "Not then. Denial has its place and it allows much of the world to function." She knew that one for a higher truth.

This time Andrea laughed a little. "Yeah. Yeah. I don't think I could have functioned if I'd realized how much I… really wanted you, Miranda."

"You realized. You didn't admit. It's a much different thing."

"True."

"But, now I'm delaying and your eyes must be opened."

"And if I said I believed you?"

"I'd be touched, but you wouldn't understand the whole. You need the benefit of the whole." She lifted her gaze to Andrea. "You may need a little distance after this small demonstration, but it is in our best interest not to wait too long."

"Too long for what?"

"To make love, Andrea. To bond more fully."

"We have a bond."

Miranda looked pleased. "You begin to perceive. We have, and apparently did have, a bond. How it happened?" Miranda shrugged. "It could have begun the first day and I wouldn't have recognized it."

"Not in your interest to do so at the time."

"Nor in yours. But, it is far easier to recognize the bond in another Dragon, than in one who is not a Dragon."

"Mm. I'm not sure if I should be offended by that or not." Andrea mused.

Miranda rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. "Are you ready, Andrea?"

The brunette considered. "Sure."

Miranda shook her head, and without quite smiling, indicated amusement. Then, she opened her mouth, just the tiniest bit, pursed her lips and blew. A sleek, tiny stream of fire flowed from her lips to the candle. The red yellow of it cast a brief glow on Miranda's face, and part of the counter. Then Miranda closed her mouth and the fire stopped abruptly. The candle remained lit.

Andrea was preternaturally still. Her widened eyes kept flickering back and forth between Miranda's face and the candle. Then her eyes rolled back in her head.

- TDWP -

"Andrea?" The young woman heard her name as if she were under a fog. "Andrea."

"I'm…" Her eyes flickered open. "I'm here." She opened her eyes and saw Miranda gazing worriedly at her. She realized her head was in the older woman's lap and drifted for a comfortable moment in that awareness. Then memory sparked.

Miranda saw the change immediately and managed to move out of the way as Andrea nearly levitated up and into a standing position. The younger backed away and pointed a finger, first at the still lit candle, then at the silver-haired woman, then at the candle again. "You're…. you're a Dragon!"

Miranda, by that time was also standing, and she cocked her head as if to say, 'Obvious.' Then she started towards Andrea.

"Stop that sexy walking thing right now." Andrea demanded. Miranda most certainly did not. She kept moving forward. Andrea backed up again. "I'm not going to be distracted from this. You. Are. A. Fire-breathing. Dragon."

"I did tell you." Miranda said easily as she finally closed the distance between herself and her intended.

"Yes. But. But." Andrea stared into Miranda's azure gaze and was momentarily lost in clouds there. Then she caught a flicker and her gazed moved right back to the candle. "This isn't… Miranda… there are possible things and impossible things."

"Really? So, which is more impossible? That? Or this?" Miranda took Andrea's face between her palms, leaned forward, and pressed her lips against the brunette's.

Andrea's lips parted, to allow the sigh to escape, and the kiss deepened, sweetened by a gentle invasion of Miranda's tongue. The younger woman hummed into the kiss, found all her focus drawn into it, as she returned the knee-melting offering in full. She felt the loss of Miranda's lips immediately as the other woman drew back and let go of her face.

Andrea floated in the silence, seeing a hundred impossible things suddenly coalesce in her mind's eye. She blinked, not at all sleepy, but trying to process it all. "Miranda."

"Yes, Andrea."

"I need a little time to think."

"I know."

"You did tell me."

"I did."

Andrea nodded. "Did, uh… Has Roy been by?"

Miranda's expression turned to one of annoyance with the universe. "The roads aren't cleared yet. He," Now she used air quotes, "'Can't' make it."

Andrea couldn't quite hide the smile. "Well, no problem. I am a champion digger. If you have a snow shovel, I can probably clear the steps and the sidewalk, at least."

"Andrea, you are still recovering…"

"Details. I'll stop if it gets too much for me. But it'll also clear my head. Say, can I borrow the girls for a little bit?"

Miranda's gaze measured her. "As long as it's not too strenuous. The girls are in the family room."

"Excellent. Shovel in the garage?"

"I don't know where else it would be."

"You could join us, if you'd like."

"I thought you said you needed time to think."

"I do. But I wouldn't mind looking at you while I did it."

Miranda's smile was full and genuine. Then she waved her hand, "I shall pass. I have no interest in shifting snow."

- TDWP -

The garage was not obvious from the front and attached to a back alley. Andrea and the girls were thoroughly bundled up, standing inside the garage together. Andy held the snow-shovel, and one of the girls pressed the button. The door ached itself open, slowly revealing a foot of snow, a second foot of snow, a third and on. By the time the door was fully open, they were all somewhat slack-jawed.

Andrea managed a weak smile at the girls. "Well, I think we might need that chair after all."

Cassidy said, tone respectful for the snow, if not for Andy, "We could just make a tunnel."

"Yeah," whispered Caroline.

"It will probably feel like one anyway, but I'm not making anything that has a chance of falling in on you two. No way."

Andrea stepped forward and considered logistics. She looked around the garage and spotted a short-step ladder. "That will do." She pointed at it.

A few moments later, they had the ladder set up. "Who's got the camera?"

"I do!" Caroline said.

Andy stood by the ladder and held up the shovel to provide a sense of measurement. "Okay, take a pic!"

As soon as the flash was done, and Andrea's vision cleared, she got up on the ladder and got started. "This ought to be fun."

"You have a strange idea of fun," said Cassidy, who held the ladder still.

Andrea just grinned. "Well, look at it this way, once we get out of the house, the opportunity to play with fire grows exponentially." Both girls' eyes widened. "Yes, my dear Dragon kits, I am about to lead you down the primrose path." Then she glanced down and said, very seriously, "Don't tell your mom."

- TDWP -

Andrea fell down, rather, sunk down into the snow, laughing. Her cheeks were flushed with both merriment and the glow of effort. The girls toppled in, piling near, but not quite on top. They had spent a good portion of the morning "clearing," the snow. They had managed a pathway from garage to sidewalk and sidewalk to the front of the door. They had made a small path to the street, but that was it, reasoning that by the time the snow plows did their job, the path would be covered anyway. Not that one could really tell, at that point.

It probably had gone quicker than it should have without a professional snowblower, but they had applied secret weapons, the twins. Flame plus snow did equal melting and it gave Andrea a chance to get used to the idea. The key was not to get discovered and not to over do it. So the shovel was still applied quite liberally. Not that there wasn't some evidence. The camera had been used to take about a zillion pictures of them goofing off, building snow men, throwing snow balls, measuring the snow by using various objects - including a quarter, which they all agreed was silliest of all. Still, it had been less work than a long, but tiring game, with Andy or the alternate sister keeping lookout on the step ladder to make sure that their shenanigans remained non-visible to outside (and inside) viewers.

"I'm so tired," Andrea groaned happily. "Pooped. I should feel much worse."

"Well, we did all the work..." Caroline dared to joke.

Andrea grabbed a handful of snow, "Oh did you?" She lifted the snow threateningly, then pretended that it was too heavy to maintain and dropped her hand back down in the fluff. "I'll have you know I did my share," she huffed, blowing her bangs away and enjoying cooler feeling of the snow on the back of her coat.

"Sure you did," Cassidy quipped. She sighed happily. "The door is too far away."

"You guys ready to go inside then?"

"Any time now."

"Yeah."

"Okay. You go first. I'll just lay here for a minute. Maybe twelve."

"Nope. If we go in, you have to go in. Mom said."

"Argh."

"Mom said she'd make cocoa."

"Oh. Well, if you put it that way. Come on then, pull me up. I'm in a weakened state." It took a few more minutes than it should have, as for a few of those times they would pull her up, she'd fall back down again. But eventually they made their way back inside again, laughing all the way.

- TDWP -

Andrea sat on the couch, in fresh PJs, wrapped in blanket. The empty cocoa mug was still in her hand and she glared at it as if it might refill itself. Her thoughts were in a whirl, as everything she'd learned so far, shifted everything she knew about life.

She looked up as Miranda liberated the mug from her hands and placed it on a coaster. The older woman said, "Your thoughts?"

"All over the place, but I think I believe you."

"You think?" Miranda took a seat beside her and settled back, tucking her legs in. She laid her arm along the edge of the couch, not quite at embracing range, but close enough to make contact if she wanted to. "You needn't answer. I will accept progress, as you well know." She extended a piece of paper towards Andrea. "For you."

Andrea took it and glanced down at the page. Handwritten names and numbers graced it. "I've always liked the way you write," Andrea commented. "It's so like you, beautiful, but with clarity."

She then looked up and asked, "What is this?"

"I decided that I wasn't interested in living life as a zombie and would much prefer it if my brain remained unpicked."

Andrea just looked at Miranda for a moment, before breaking out into a laugh. She lifted the paper. "You didn't have to, but thank you."

"Of course I didn't have to. But, I thought, given the amount of time you spent with my daughters and my plans for later, that you might want to conserve your energy."

"Plans, hmm." Andrea contemplated. "Do they include necking?"

"Beg pardon?"

"If you're not interested," Andrea set the paper down and opened up the covers, "We can always just cuddle."

"Oh." The older woman slid closer, and then was drawn into the embrace. For a half of a second she stiffened, and then she abruptly relaxed into Andrea's arms.

Andrea hummed and closed her eyes. "Have you noticed, Miranda, how much better this feels. It's like..."

"A well being filled."

Andrea whispered, "Yes. I didn't even know the well was empty." The young woman pulled back to gaze at Miranda. "This is what you were talking about, what you meant."

"Somewhat. It is fundamentally more complicated." Miranda did not mention that her well, in particular, had been emptied and then emptied again until she'd felt like a black hole was constantly within her. Until Andrea. She practically wrapped herself around the young woman. It was a sensation that the young woman was becoming more and more used to. Miranda rarely let her roam far in the bed without some touching point between them.

Affection colored Andrea's expression. "As always. But if it were simple, it wouldn't be you."

"On the contrary, things are very simple with me. Hermes scarves…"

"Molten lava coffee."

"Yes."

"Thank you for the cocoa. Thank you for rescuing me from freezing to death at my place."

"Enlightened self interest, I assure you."

"So. No necking?"

"No. Saving your energy, remember."

Andrea realized that Miranda's eyes had closed. It made her think about something the twins had said to her previously; that Miranda hadn't been getting much sleep until very lately. She was still catching up. Andrea hugged her Dragon closer.

"Right. Of course. I'll just close my eyes then."

"Mm."

Miranda's breathing evened out and then, with no hesitation at all, Andrea joined her in slumber.

- TDWP -

"Wow." Andrea meant that most sincerely. The walk-in closet was as big as the front room of her apartment; possibly bigger and certainly much more organized. "When you said you had plans for me, I don't think this is what I pictured. But I'm game. What are we doing here?"

Miranda handed her a notepad, "I'm borrowing your expertise at note-taking to start planning for the ball. You may sit there." She pointed to a soft padded chair, one of a set, and turned her attention to the matter at hand.

"Ah. I charge $22.95 an hour. Or a lot of kisses, depending on what you're willing to pay." Andrea joked.

Miranda smirked at her, "We shall discuss payment later."

"Later. Later. Later." Andrea flounced into the chair, putting one leg over an armrest and putting the notepad in her lap. If she was going to take notes, she was going to do so comfortably.

Miranda ignored the grousing and reached and grasped a hanger from one of myriad racks. "We will begin with classics for daily wear and the smaller parties, then move onto the masquerade. The ball wear we shall work on last."

"There's going to be costumes?"

"Of a sort." Miranda said as she sifted quickly through options, refining choices. "Some will be wearing near to nothing, covering only what must be covered and the mask. It will be that kind of event. The ball is more," she pursed her lips in thought, then shook her head, "traditional. But then it would be, as it is normally the celebration of consummation. Not that passion does not strike there, also. It is simply flavored differently. Note this down..."

"Dare I ask what you mean?"

Miranda turned a smoky gaze to Andrea, "You may always ask. Perhaps you might dare to guess."

"Oh. I should have realized you'd turn that on me."

The older woman cocked a knowing brow at her.

"I imagine that a Dragon can see through many disguises. The masquerade will give some a chance to indulge in, let's say player switches, if they want. But that indicates that any deep connections Dragons make can be very long term."

"Indeed. A good mating lasts a lifetime, hundreds and hundreds of years. I imagine with that much time involved there might need be some opportunity for guiltless surprises. That said, I lost Jeffery to a masquerade." Miranda said, allowing the distraction. "Then again, I found him in masquerade too. It caused some drama."

"Should I worry?" Andrea's voice quavered, despite herself.

"We shall be attending under much different circumstances, my Andrea. Spend no time worrying. Instead, consider that the claim will be staked, and the outfits you wear will reflect it."

"Oh!" Andrea's gaze narrowed. "Wait. Not another make over."

"Welcome to life while near fashion."

- TDWP -

Miranda was in the bath, regrouping after a couple of hours of arduous planning. She wouldn't let Andrea join her. So, the younger woman opted to use her time for something meaningful. After she tapped out the notes in her laptop and shot an email to Emily, Andrea decided it would be the perfect time to send the information Miranda had given her and a few select photos, with some explanation for each. She also decided to call, intending to leave a message to let Cruella know the email was on its way.

She didn't actually expect to make contact.

- TDWP -

Cruella's day had been swerved by one single phone call. After finishing her talk with Andy, Andrea Sachs, of the New York Mirror, she concluded that some investigation might be worth her time. With Alonzo gone on that errand and no other assistant to call - something she realized she would have to change - she was tied to the desk for a moment anyway.

She had come, over the years, to appreciate the uses of the Internet as a research tool. She found the New York Mirror online almost immediately and started scanning for the articles the young woman had written. She was absorbed quickly into the reading. Andy was versatile, covering both serious content, such as the blown oil wells and their long term effects, and fluff, such as socialite parties. She wrote with eloquence and humor, apparently unafraid of expanding her readers' vocabularies. Her articles were not for the lowest common denominator. Cruella found that charming.

Inevitably, she discovered the Andrea Sach's biography – slash – vita. That was reading which had caused her sit back and contemplate the ways of the universe. It had proved most enlightening, providing not only details of the young woman's beginnings, but of her ascent into the heady heights of fashion as an assistant under the tutelage of one, "Miranda Priestly."

Cruella whispered the forbidden name as if it were a magical enchantment prone to delivering that which was called. It was a habit, established from early on. It was impolitic to utter the Priestly name in family halls, specifically her cousins'. Her parents had thought Cruella's fascination with the Dragon who so ruthlessly emasculated one of theirs, in public, no less, had been merely another part of her blond phase. That, as far as they knew, was when she had discovered La Priestly. Certainly it was when she had discovered Runway; the magazine, which in all its local and non-local forms, continued to capture her attention. The fact that the enemy of her cousin Drakon happened to be the editor-in-chief of one of the top fashion magazines was merely icing on the cake.

Her teen infatuation with Runway's editor was not the real first time that Miranda had been brought to her awareness. It was merely the most visible. No, that Dragon, the one whose great house had been so shattered and broken, the one who had rebuilt from the ashes like a phoenix, the Queen Dragon who should have been Dragon Queen, had been a part of Cruella's life for a very, very long time; since her first Dragon's ball.

She could still remember running through the great hallways of that convocation. She was fleet and strong, running towards some destination, playing a game with the other Dragon kits in an environment that had, for the most part, been declared safe for them. She had been mostly paying attention, but it was all delightful chaos. She remembered bounding off walls, being followed with laughter, and practically throwing herself through a set of doors, which had stayed opened oh so briefly.

An elevator is a very small space to come to a full halt. The only saving grace was that she had not been in Dragon form. It did not stop her from colliding with the sole person within, knocking both of them down in a calamitous heap.

She was too young to understand what had happened, too young to really even apologize. "Whoops! We fell."

Those had been the introductory words. Then they had made eye contact.

The other Dragon, a young woman, with bright silver hair and an even brighter blue gaze, had stared into Cruella's amber for what seemed like a hundred heartbeats. Really, it probably wasn't even that long. She had gasped, a mild, "Oh," of surprise.

Cruella, remembered touching the woman's face, drawing her fingers through moisture on her cheeks. "Someone has made you cry." She had not liked that. "Shall I bite them?" She exhibited her teeth in a Dragon's smile. Small they might yet be, but like all Dragons, the incisors were more pointed and longer, the smile more dangerous. The promise to bite for another was an act of allegiance, affection.

Miranda gripped the girl by the shoulders, examined her with a quick assessment. "Aren't you remarkable" She had exhaled slowly, then she said, "We mustn't, though. You must forget this, young one. It can not be."

"What can't?"

Miranda had not answered, but had gathered her strength and drew them both up into standing positions. "It is not important. You needn't worry."

Cruella had slipped her hand through Miranda's as natural as if it belonged there. "I'm not worried."

Miranda had squeezed her hand gently, but as soon as the door had opened, had sent her on her way. "Go now. Return to your play. Grow up in joy."

She had pushed her out, and then quickly closed the elevator doors before the young Dragon could rush back in.

Cruella had not understood then what Miranda was trying to do; It should have been impossible, but with Miranda, the impossible somehow often made way.

Except in this one case.

Cruella had grown up. There had been, as in all lives, some joy. Some sorrow. But she never forgot.

It was a very long time before she understood what really had happened. The Bond, that mystical event which so many sought and so few received, was magical in essence and permanent in nature. The magic, once awakened, began its weaving with quick, sure strokes. It needed only one sense to start, one moment of true contact between the persons destined; sight, sound, touch and so on. Cruella had been, by all accounts, inundated by their first contact. By the time Bonding was explained to her, she had already known that there were fundamental and unbreakable ties that must never be revealed and could not be acted upon. Certainly not at her age and not in the then that was now. The only saving grace was that the actual first event happened so young, that other than provoking a certain bristly personality, which everyone took to be her Dragonish self, she had not suffered withdrawal. Perhaps having a continent between them had helped. Or perhaps learning self control had. Or maybe Miranda had a deeper magic and it had worked enough to protect them both. Maybe she had even managed to forget.

Cruella honestly did not know, as for all she could tell the thread had never fully taken root on the other end. Despite understanding more once she got older, that sense of confused loss, which had infused her growing up years, had never quite left her.

Neither did it stop her from living her life to the fullest. She went on, formed alliances and enemies of her own. Built her own modest empire, independent of her clan. Occasionally, usually when her mood was blackest and her rage was at its peak, she would feel a curious tug, then an icy calmness would sooth the fire of her temper.

She did wonder, sometimes, what stupidity perpetrated by Drakon had caused the falling out between their Clans. She had no doubt that it had been his, and not Miranda's, as she was unimpressed with her cousin's inability to think past his own needs. But it was not something ever revealed, certainly not to youngsters like herself. Now it lay buried in the past, one of those unimportant, life-changing events. She was glad, for if Drakon had not failed, her life would have been misery compounded.

Cruella didn't much like Drakon and felt no allegiance to him. He had slighted her often during her childhood. He wasn't the only one. She didn't much like any of her cousins, as they had been very aware of her differences. Most of her family ran to raven black hair coloration, with a few reds, or at the very least a single color. But now that she was grown up and Drakon had an interest in her, circling around her like that idiot Reginald; he assumed she had forgotten. He was waiting. She was chafing at the assumptions that hovered in the air around her.

She had not been oblivious to his intentions. She was loathe to disappoint her parents by behaving too terribly, but she didn't care what the cousins thought or wanted. She had other wants and needs and that did not involve adding to the family bloodline. There were plenty of other kits to choose from should she pass early; not that she would. Yes. She had plans.

The Ball was coming. Everyone had to attend. Herself. Her family. Others. It was a time where councils met, deals were brokered. Clan houses were built, honored or broken. It was a time of mating. Politics and more. It was a very dangerous time indeed, and if it wasn't for the possibly very real threat certain interested parties represented, she would have been truly looking forward to it.

And Andrea Sachs, Andy, who had a sudden interest in a life across a whole ocean, had just called and was with Miranda.

Cruella was absolutely sure it wasn't just any Miranda. It was her Miranda. The goddess Dragon. La Priestly.

Lucky. Lucky. Girl.

She tried hard to be jealous, but there was just something; something that was tickling at the back of her brain and circling lazily around Cruella's warm spaces, like a forgotten memory or desire unspoken. Fingertips traced the image of Miranda Priestly on the screen.

They were both older now, both women of power and experience. Times had changed. The world had changed. Miranda's house was on the rise. Magic was in the air.

The doors swinging open as Alonzo struggled with a multitude of objects broke her concentration. She offered him a baleful glare. "It's about time you got here. Do you know how many phone calls come to this place!" It was practically a scream. "For god's sake pick someone else to get them before you got traipsing off. Are we understood?"

Alonzo shaken, and stirred, nodded vehemently. "Yes. Ms. De Vil."

Cruella smiled. Then, she said, almost pleasantly, as she extended a hand, "Well?"

For once, Alonzo moved with alacrity.

- TDWP -

Cruella's cell rang. At last.

She answered it with a lazy smile, "Andy. How good of you to call."

"Cruella!" Andrea's voice squeaked in surprise. Though she managed to normalize her voice to continue, "Did I wake you? It's 2 am there..."

"Technically no. I've been awake."

"I was only going to leave a message, since I was just calling to tell you that your list of possible PR reps and some photos were on their way."

"Ah, but I've been awaiting this call."

"You haven't been staying up for it, have you? I thought sure I still had a few hours. I might have lost track..."

"Andy," Cruella said, amused. "I did not stay up for the call. I was merely available for it. I'm thinking about some new designs. And yes, you still had plenty of time."

"Oh. Well." Andrea paused, trying to gather her thoughts and wondering if she should continue the conversation. Finally she asked, "Do you like where your designs are going?"

"They are pedestrian and frustrating. I want flamboyance, without giving up classic lines. I have been receiving, instead, offerings of towering ineptitude." Papers shifted in Cruella's hands as she examined them.

Andrea felt the stirrings of warm familiarity. She knew that kind of talk. "That bad, huh. Need an ear for a few minutes?"

- TDWP -

"Andy?" Cruella paused, sensing that the younger woman's world had tilted somehow. Or maybe the cell phone battery had given out, though she had charged it. "Andy, are you still there?"

"Miranda just walked in."

"Oh? And you stopped talking because?"

"She's nude. She's never come to bed nude before."

Cruella drew in a deep, extraordinary breath, and breathed it out in a nearly prayerful command, "Tell me, Andy. What are you seeing?" It shocked her that she even dared asked. Yet, how could she resist the opportunity when it fell in her lap like this?

"I see her." Cruella's well practiced mind could imagine it. But this was reality. She wanted it. Badly.

"Colors?"

"Gorgeous."

"Andy, darling," Cruella offered in amused response, but kept her tone carefully modulated so that she wouldn't draw the other woman's attention back fully to the conversation. She needed those aforementioned 'socially appropriate filters' to stay down just a little bit longer. "Describe it for me, luv, from top to bottom."

"A halo of white, hint of gold in the silver. Her hair falls into place even when not quite dry, a small wave over eye, like its waiting for someone to run their hands through it. She's light skinned, the palest pink and pearl tipped with red rose. She curves in all the right places. In a hot-damn kind of way, in the kind of way that when she walks, your thoughts can't help where they go. Her lips and her nipples match and they are so achingly beautiful. I want so much to taste them."

"Mm. Go on," Cruella purred. It was an after effect of the unconscious sensuality in the younger woman's voice, and of her own senses becoming charged in response. It had been... a very long time. She was hungry, starving for this.

"Azure eyes, they've gone darker, like the sky at night when you look up high and feel like you could drown in ecstasy. Her cheeks are flushed."

"Rose again?"

"Yes, but not too pink. Just hot. Very, very hot." It was a molten whisper, laden with desire, which sizzled through the connection and curled into Cruella. "Muscles, but smooth and sleek like a cat."

"Or a Dragon." Yes. She remembered Andy's unusual question earlier. The implications became suddenly clear and Cruella thrilled to it. She knew.

"Yes." It was a hiss, one of pure, molten possessiveness. "My Dragon."

"Does she mind that you're telling me this?"

"I don't... I don't think so. She's amused by it, I think. She's giving me this arch look." Andrea said. "You know, she can do that. Miranda can knock you over with a cocked eyebrow and tear down worlds with it. Or make them. My body aches for her. Did I tell you that? A year of ache. Every day. I've only been feeling some better recently..."

"We haven't been acquainted that long, Andy."

"Really? It seems like we've known each other forever. How did that happen?"

Cruella's breath hitched. "Does the... Does she match all the way down, Andy?"

"Yes. Yes. She does. So neat. Trim." Andrea licked her lips, and there was hardly a sound that could be associated with that, but it was heard by a Dragon's ears very easily. "I think she'll be rose there too. Maybe a little pinker. I can hardly wait."

"You sound so urgent. Are you?"

"Yes," Andrea said in a haze. "I want her very much."

She couldn't bear to let it go, but had to. Must. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Yes. I will."

"You have given me enough for today. Hang up the phone, Andy."

"Bye." Andrea snapped the phone shut with a single click. Her gaze never left Miranda.

- TDWP -

Andrea may have hung up, but the phone was immediately forgotten in her hand. She was too lost in watching Miranda.

The older woman grasped the phone and laid it on the bed-stand. She did not ask who Andrea had called. She knew. She'd heard. It had quickened the fire in her that had already been burning and she knew had played a dangerous game by not stopping it. Without speaking, she grasped the edge of Andrea's pajama shirt. The younger woman's breath caught, but she lifted her arms. The garment slid off in one smooth motion.

Andrea had intended to stand, but Miranda leaned in until she could feel the other woman's body heat settle over her. Miranda always ran warmer. Now Andrea understood why. She basked in the heat, melted into the older woman's space. She could smell the clean womanly, spicy scent of her. The heady mix coursed through her senses, spiraled her need higher. Andrea felt the backboard of the bed against her shoulders, used it to brace herself as their lips crushed together. Miranda leaned in further, using her arms to support the position, until she was much farther in. Andrea could feel the Dragon's knee against her center, pressing against pj bottoms and moistened panties. She opened to the tender assault, surrendering to the kiss, spreading her legs, wishing she were as deliciously naked as Miranda was. Her hands wrapped around her lover's back, and she gasped at the smoothness of her skin, the sleek heat that seemed to tingle from the contact. She stroked, not petting, but exploring, wanting to feel as much of Miranda's skin as her mind had earlier imagined.

She would have lost herself in that kiss, but Miranda pulled back, not too abruptly. She offered a wicked smile to Andrea and rocked back enough to shift so her hands were on bands of Andrea's underpants and her pjs. The young woman moaned, high in her throat, at the sound of cloth being cut, sliced off. The clothing fell off of her, no longer held by seams. Miranda grasped her hips, pressed in with her talon-sharp nails, not quite digging, yet enough that Andrea stilled at the pressure.

"Understand, Andrea Sachs, after this, there will be no turning back," Miranda said in that low, vibrating tone that always to got to Andy, the one that always made her body clench whenever she heard it. "Things between us will be fundamentally altered."

"They were altered," Andrea panted, desperately wanting Miranda's hands to move – not because they were painful, but because she wanted them touching her everywhere, "the first day I saw you and you saw me."

Miranda's lips turned up before she leaned in again, and summoned Andrea forward. The brunette's body arched toward her, legs splayed again, and this time, when there was contact, she felt the desire slicked skin of Miranda's thigh. Her hips pushed up and then, she felt the brush of curls, an open pressing as connection was made. She felt Miranda's taut pearl, and gasped in frank pleasure as the buds of their desire brushed together. She did not think she could feel any hotter, but then Miranda began to move in achingly slow motion, pressing in and pulling away. She dragged Andrea into another burning kiss and another. Her arms wrapped around the brunette and Andrea felt the bite of nails against her shoulder blades. It was a hint of things to come.

"I'm going to taste you now," Miranda said, and her kisses slid down Andrea's neck. Andrea gasped at soft nips, and tender suction. "I've been waiting for ages to hold you like this." The longing in Miranda's voice cured any fear that Andrea had been alone in her need. Her breasts ached, pebbled as the dragon's palms skimmed along her body. Andrea returned touch for touch, loving the way their bodies felt together, moved in heady rightness.

"Then taste me," she demanded, "I want you to have me, Miranda. All of me."

An animal growl slipped from Miranda, thrilled through Andrea, coursed lightening through her veins. They moved as one, until Andrea lay prone on the bed. The older woman held Andrea's hands down by the wrists. Miranda's lips covered a breast, laved it with tongue, and teased it with her teeth, until Andrea was bucking to be touched elsewhere. Then she switched to the other breast and owned it, just the same. By the time she released Andrea's wrists, the young woman was clenching the headboard, arching in aching need for Miranda, who kissed her way down following the sleek line of Andrea's abdomen to umber curls.

- TDWP -

Cruella lay motionless in the dark, on her bed, sleepless and aching from the mental picture that Andrea had painted for her. The picture, in some ways, was very familiar to her - Miranda's image had been with her a long time. Overlapped with that, however, was a new face, one less familiar, but no less beautiful. "Andy," whispered Cruella. "Who are you?"

Her body responded to the query as if it already knew, already craved. She felt a heated need forming in her center, as her mind carried on, envisioning the possible aftermaths of their ending discussion. She closed her eyes as erotic scenes canvased her thoughts, unstoppable and each more potent than the last.

She turned, trying a technique of changing her position that sometimes worked. It didn't. It only made her aware of how uncomfortable she was feeling in her clothing and how awake she still was.

She could force herself to sleep. She had in the past. But as an adult, she had long ago accommodated herself to the realization that she was a woman with needs. She was not that prone to ignoring them.

Decision made, she stopped trying to fool herself, and sat up. She quickly stripped, taking off all hindrances - of which there had actually been few. She covered her breasts with her palms, feeling the nipples tighten in excitement and pleasure. She was already wet, clenching and unclenching in receptive readiness. She lay down on her bed. Closed her eyes. Let her hands drift, pluck, caress to the mental images scoring her. Silver-haired woman leaning over brunette, kisses so hot that they steamed and fogged Cruella's thoughts. Her hands drifted lower, touching slick silken spaces. Her heart thundered and her need pulsed. Her legs opened, receptively. Her fingers trilled along the sweet spot. She gasped her need, her desire, envisioned them. Spiraled higher, far past want into something else, something new, something that burned.

- TDWP -

Andrea's ardent demand to taste her lover too provoked a shift in Miranda's purpose. They lay side by side, opposite to one another, legs arched intimately. The brunette clasped Miranda to her with one arm, anchoring her into place, while making delicate contact with her tongue in the place she most needed. She supped there, dipping and swirling into her white-gold dragon like she was fine wine. She lost herself in the taste, feeling primal exultation, even as she couldn't resist Miranda's summons. Every touch, every connection, every sweet taste and scent and sound, stirred their pulses, deepened in them. They lost themselves to each other, drew out the song of their names in each other, and became more daring. She moved to the older woman's touch, felt the spread of fingers deep within, rocked into the push and pull; to the delicious sweet torture of Miranda's mouth.

A white line of fire scrolled under their skin, blazed. It coiled and swirled, flowed between them. It brightened them, brightened the room. It chimed, sang through them. They felt it, but did not notice it, as it undid ties and binds and reformed them, looping through them in erotic cascades. They were on the tip of orgasm, not quite toppled, and infinity stretched out to catch them. Waiting. Power pooled in the room around them. The wind blew, shook the snow from the roof outside, light flashed across the sky, followed by the sound of rolling thunder. They heard it as the hammer of their hearts, felt it as the need to fill and be filled. Andrea drew away, just to take a moment to look at Miranda, found her looking back with blue flames in her eyes. She was unaware of the white flame in hers. Her breath taken, she grasped it back by pursuing her course, savoring the hub of Miranda's center, plundering her with long fingers even as a the mighty spiral of Eros and magic stirred her until there was no going back, no point of return. They cried out, screamed, into maelstrom of pleasure that was too intense to carry alone. They arced as pointed lights jazzed between them, scoring through them like a needle with lightening as its thread. They were unfashioned, fashioned again, redesigned.

They lifted off the bed, beribboned in light. Miranda, conscious enough to do the only thing that could be done, as they had been flipped until they were face to face, grasped Andrea to her and held her tightly. Their legs entangled. Their bodies pressed. Andrea's long hair was standing straight up and fanning out, as was Miranda's shorter hair. She whispered sharply into Andrea's ears, because she needed her to hear it before the finish, needed her to know what she had known for so long. "I love you."

Andrea shuddered, opened her mouth to reply, but no words commenced. Light poured from her mouth as her body arched away. Miranda captured her head, grasped her by the hair and dragged her back, kissed her fiercely. Kissed her as only a Dragon could, and claimed what was hers. Andrea kissed her back, claimed her in return, as lightening struck in succession around the house.

And then they dropped, in slow motion, tired and breathless, settled by a universe with loving hands onto the bed.

"You're glowing," Andrea whispered. Her fingertips traced the lines she could see under Miranda's skin now.

"You are as well," Miranda whispered back, in awe. "My Andrea. My Lady."

"Yes."

- TDWP -

Cruella fell to the bed, gasping and shuddering, orgasming in full, but savagely weeping at her incompleteness. Lightening scoured the sky, refused to strike ground, rumbled with every shudder she took.

What she had just witnessed was more than just imagination. She could not deny the vision, wouldn't have even if she'd been able to, nor could she deny the aching fire it had so viciously awakened in her. She would have raised her fist at the universe, but had no strength to do so. Instead, as pleasure finished its cascade, she turned her head on the pillow and let the tears slide.


	5. Chapter 5

TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 5

Andrea woke up to overwhelming brightness. It was as if direct sunlight, portioned into energetic swirls and meaningful symbols she couldn't interpret, was being poured into her eyeballs. She slapped her hands over her face, biting back a scream as she realized that her eyes had not actually been open.

"Andrea?" Miranda's voice, penetrated her panic. She sounded far away and Andy realized she had not been on the bed. She wasn't sure if she'd even been in the room.

But she had come. She was there. Andrea had no idea how Miranda had known. But she was there.

Andrea shifted in the bed, and saw her lover very clearly, only not the way she was used to seeing her. She was outlined by the shape of a dragon. It made her gasp. She answered the unspoken question, "The... the light, Miranda! So much light!"

"Keep your eyes closed."

Panic edged Andrea's voice. "They are closed."

She "watched," as Miranda paced towards her. The older woman gently clasped her hands and pulled them from her face.

"I want you to listen very carefully to me, Andrea. No interruptions"

"I'm listening." She was too scared not to.

"This is nothing unusual for you now." Andrea opened her mouth, but bit back what she was going to say. Miranda continued. "You will see things. Know things. Simply because of who and what you are. I want you to imagine closing your eyes."

The young woman hesitated, but then her shoulders relaxed as she followed Miranda's directions. The light dimmed, faded. Her lover spoke soothingly, carefully, "Think of your sight as being like a pair of special lenses. Visualize it. See it."

"I see it."

"Good. Now, imagine that these lenses can be switched on and off."

"Okay. Okay."

"Imagine, that these lenses can be adjusted for the light at will, like seeing through sunglasses."

Andrea nodded.

"Now, when you wish to see the lights, you turn the lenses on. When you wish to see things otherwise, you turn them off. They can be adjusted any time. Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Do you agree with me?"

"Yes, Miranda."

"Then turn off the lights. And open your eyes."

Andrea gripped Miranda's hands tightly, drew in a deep, deep breath, and then opened her eyes. They grew wet with relief. "Oh. That's better. Yeah..." Her eyes widened at Miranda's sympathetic expression. "What the hell was that?"

"Dragon vision, Andrea." Miranda decided a small distraction was in order to quell the residue panic. She leaned in and captured the younger woman in a long, sweet kiss. "Welcome to the consequences of the Bond."

-TDWP-

Andrea looked out the window again. She blinked, slowly and deliberately, watching as shimmering lines fell into place all over. Some were just energy fields. Some looked like markings, the kind you'd see on covers of fantasy books. "You have this place warded to kingdom come, don't you." She whispered the words, knowing that she was making assumptions based on stories and ideas she'd read about. It seemed to fit, seemed to be right.

She was startled by an answer. "Yeah. Mom doesn't like having to hire security. So, we get this instead." Andrea blinked rapidly as she turned, and her vision seemed to shift through several levels before settling on the right one. Which meant that, by the time she was looking at Cassidy, she had witnessed the "shading to red," gold that was the young dragon.

"That, uh," Andrea shook her head a bit, "That makes sense." She nodded. "Good sense."

"It will get easier, Andy," Caroline said.

"That's good to know. I just... I just realized I have no idea how to do any of this." She chuckled a little giddily. "I didn't even know it existed."

""We'll teach you."

Andrea considered that. "I accept your offer of basic instruction. I think, however, your Mom might have a say in any..." Now she cleared her throat, "... advanced techniques."

"Indeed," said Miranda, sweeping in from wherever she had been hiding, "I will see to both. One way or the other."

Andrea paused, taking a moment just to bask in the other woman's presence. Her eyes slid over Miranda's form with new appreciation. "You look scrumptious. But very work-like." She felt the edges of disappointment. One night was not enough, could not possibly be enough.

"The roads were cleared last night. Cara will be arriving soon, since the girls have lucked out and do not have school." The twins high-fived and grinned at each other. Miranda gave them an affectionate glance, and continued. "I, on the other hand, have a job to do."

Andrea was truly hating the idea of being separated so soon from Miranda. On a scale of one to ten, it was actually somewhere in the negatives. But, even with that thought, she tried to put on a cheerful aspect. It was not quite successful, but one could see she meant well.

Miranda did not bother to hide her smirk. "As you may recall, there are still plans to enact for the Ball. It would please me if you would join me."

Andrea's smile turned ecstatically real. She couldn't help the joke. "Can I wear my scrubbiest clothes? It's not like I work there any more..."

"Absolutely not."

"Darn." Andrea shrugged. "I guess I'm yours. For today."

Miranda's smile was lazily possessive and she reached out a hand, not quite imperiously. "Mmm, yes, you are. Just imagine, however, how thrilled everyone will be to see you again."

Andrea rolled her eyes even as took the older woman's hand. "Oh goody."

-TDWP-

The towncar rolled up to Elias-Clark. It was true that the roads and some sidewalks had been cleared, but the snow was still piled quite high and deep. It still hid quite a bit of the surface of the building and was impressive.

The ride had been one of the longest of Andrea's life. Not because Miranda was being unpleasant. The opposite was true. She had been charming, had touched Andrea without compulsion or shame, had carried on a conversation - not small talk - just talk. But that had been a distraction, because Miranda simply had not let Andrea have her way, which would have been delicious for both of them, but not conducive to starting out the work day - as it would have rumpled their clothes.

"Next time," Andrea vowed under her breath, "We make love before we leave the house. Next time we bring an extra set of clothes. Next time we plan ahead." She shivered, realizing she was making the assumption that she would be allowed to stay, that there would be a next time. The thought that there wouldn't was unbearable.

Miranda had taken her hand, leaned over, and whispered, "Andrea, are you truly needful?"

Andrea had hissed a breath, and squeezed her Dragon's hand. She almost lied, except, it was still truth. "I can wait. I know we need to do this."

"No. You know I need to do this, and you are indulging it, when we should be basking in the right of the bond." Miranda cupped her face and kissed Andrea in a way that started out chaste, but became extravagantly luscious in seconds. It had taken will power on both their sides to separate, to not let it go any further.

"Are you sure you should have brought me with you?"

"Yes."

By that time Roy was opening the door on Miranda's side. The editrix's game face fell into place, and it still rocked Andrea's world. She turned and stepped out onto the cleared pavement and waited. Andrea had half expected Miranda would move on, and she did, as soon as Andrea had taken up a familiar place by her side. They both looked good, complimentary without looking the same. Both wore long black coats of different styles. Underneath the coats, Andrea wore black slacks, black trim belt with a tiny silver buckle and a plum button down blouse of a winter-friendly material, while Miranda wore a classic black pencil skirt and suit, an almost different black trim belt with silver buckle, and a white silk blouse accentuated by her Hermes scarf. They both wore heels, though, given the weather, Andrea would have preferred her Doc Martins. Miranda's smile was a flicker in her eyes, an approval of that which she had wrought only that morning, and a sensual satisfaction that poured into her walk.

Andrea strove to keep her hands to herself, as she followed a few steps behind, reminding herself, very sternly, that there were cameras everywhere at Elias-Clarke. One did not just grab the ass of Miranda Priestly; even if it was swaying teasingly right before her eyes. She knew Miranda was doing it on purpose, too, damn her. She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Neither did one stare lustfully at Miranda Priestly, nor did one growl possessively when someone not Andrea passed too close to Miranda Priestly. She chanted these tenets over and over in her mind as they entered the building.

Her attention returned to the moment when she heard the imperious command, "Give Andrea a permanent security pass. You know her name. Her address has changed. Use mine. Bring the pass to the office as soon as it is ready."

Well, that answered that, Andrea thought in a relief that was near giddy. She was going to have to give up the deposit to her apartment, but for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to care as she fought to keep the silly grin off her face.

The guard hadn't been given a chance to reply, but had managed a quick nod before Miranda whirled away. Andrea offered a half smile, but did not hesitate to follow. She did realize, however, that the elevator ride was going to feel almost as long as the car ride, as she stepped into the small box and her senses were immediately inundated with her Dragon's scent.

Next time, they make love before leaving the house.

-TDWP-

Miranda powered into her offices like usual, stripping off her coat and purse like armor. Andrea hissed in a breath at the reveal, and in an opposite affect, to give her hands something to do, clutched her coat closed. It didn't need it. The coat was button down. She then forced herself to look anywhere, anywhere at all, but Miranda.

She spotted a young blond, cowering at the "new Emily" desk. Her old desk. She saw the real Emily charge forward to join the momentum, writing fast on a notepad as Miranda offered rapid-fire orders. Somehow the redhead managed to sneak in a few wide-eyed 'what the hell are you doing here?' glances in Andrea's direction.

At the moment, Andrea couldn't say, but she wanted to grab Miranda's hand, run into the office, lock the door and have wild, uninhibited break the desk down sex. She offered a weak shrug and started unbuttoning her coat, not quite ready to assume that she might actually be welcome in the Dragon's den again, but unwilling to cause commotion for the Emilys if she were.

It might as well have been airconditioned on high, the way her nipples flared to attention. She was grateful for the thicker cloth of her blouse, which disguised things somewhat. She decided to make herself useful, reaching to grab Miranda's coat and purse before they were flung onto a desk. Their fingers brushed and a tingle went straight through her spine to her center. She ignored that too and broke away from the charge towards the office so she could go to the closet, hang up the coats and maybe, just maybe, call herself to order.

She did not ignore the wide-eyed new girl. "I'm Andrea. You can call me Andy," she said, as she deftly arranged the coats in proper order.

The blonde's hand went to her mouth, covering up plum-lipsticked lips. "Oh." She leaned forward and asked, "The Andrea?"

The brunette nodded solemnly, then smiled.

"Wow," the girl whispered. Then she stood up and scooted towards Andrea. "You're a legend."

"In my own mind, maybe." Andrea grinned. Then she said, "And you are?"

"Marie. Marie Angela."

"Nice to meet you Marie Angela. We'll talk later. I better go." She thumbed in the direction of Miranda's office, feeling centered again.

Marie's eyes widened and her pallor shaded down another notch of pale. "Yeah. You don't keep her waiting."

-TDWP-

"Was the coat closet very interesting today?" Miranda asked upon Andrea's arrival into the office.

Emily smirked on her way out, not quite knowing what was going on, but reassured that Andrea was not in total good graces. The redhead's speculative looks had not ceased. Andrea was not prepared to answer yet, but as Miranda had not thrown her out of the office because of her delay, she had a right to be there. So, the brunette ignored Emily, did not reply to the question asked. "Marie seems nice." She walked to the Starbucks container and felt its side for the heat. "Hmm. Needs work."

"Thus, Emily." The inflection in Miranda's tone clearly meant Marie. It was amazing how much could be read in the Dragon by mere tone. It also, in this case, made a new and perfect sense to Andrea. One earned their name at Runway.

"Thus, I am illuminated."

"Which does bring us to why you are here."

"You mean it's not to flog me and parade me in front of the masses as an example?" Andrea cast a glance back towards the assistants desk. Neither of them were obviously trying to spy, but that did not mean they weren't paying attention.

"As an example, no. But in private, my dear, you shouldn't knock it, until you've tried it." Miranda smirked as Andrea's cheeks turned nigh unto ruby. Then, with firm words, she brought Andrea back to the present. "I promised you tutelage, and I shall give it to you." She couldn't resist the tease, "In all manner of ways. But for this moment, your assignment is to look at everything with new eyes. Visit all the departments, all the areas that belong to Runway and then visit the areas that Runway co-shares with the other offices in this building. Come back to me when your mission is complete. I will expect a report."

"Written?" Andrea smirked as she headed out of the office.

"Oral."

"Oh my god." Andrea barely managed to avoid running face first into the door frame as she staggered under the weight of visions having nothing to do with modeling, Runway or learning magical things.

Miranda took off her glasses, pressing the tip of one edge against her lips. "So easy," she murmured, very pleased.

Emily, not one to let a good snark go by, said, as Andrea passed by, "So kind of you to grace us with your presence, Andrea. I see you've weaseled your way back in. How, I will never know."

Andrea, paused, "One of these days you'll forgive me. But to speed it along, what would it take?"

"Are you working here?"

"I..." Andrea cast a glance back at Miranda's office. Her Dragon was turned away, looking out a window. "I... don't quite know. But Miranda wants me here. So here I am."

Emily scrutinized Andrea. "Fine. No doubt, Miranda is testing you today. If you manage to come back tomorrow, Andy, and truly want my personal forgiveness, you will wear something outrageous, head to toe, upon your return."

"Outrageous, but fashionable, I take it?"

"Of course. That means nothing hillbilly or Midwestern."

"Fine." Andrea warned. "I'll do it. But if you like it, you can't have it. I'm keeping it."

"I thought you wanted my forgiveness."

""We'll negotiate only if it fits you too."

"Of course it won't fit me, you bloody cow." Emily scoffed. "I had to have all the clothes you so rightly gave me from Paris, taken in. And even then, half it had to be discarded because they didn't look right after the resizing."

Andy rolled her eyes, but smiled. She'd missed Emily. "Fine. We negotiate if you like it and it can be fitted without destroying the lines. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

-TDWP-

Andrea paused at the T-intersection that separated the main office hallway, the art department, the studio, and the sundry other offices that comprised Runway. She could feel Emily's confused and angry glare and Marie's curious and awed stare on her back, but other than that, had no idea why she suddenly felt nervous. She had been here before. A part of her realized that things she had experienced as an employee were probably different than what she would experience as... what? Miranda's emissary? Guest? She wasn't sure that there was a real role she was playing.

The journalist corrected herself. She did have a role. It was student, researcher and reporter.

'Oral reporter,' a part of her mind inserted with a touch of erotic glee. Her thoughts swerved again, briefly, thinking tasty Miranda thoughts before she forcibly hauled her hormones back under control.

She intended to do well in this. She intended for Miranda to be proud of the fact that Andrea was part of her life. She wanted this and it meant she needed to exhibit not just self control, but motivation and independent thought. If she took the role seriously, then research and reporting was a mantle she could easily assume and play. If there was another role Miranda intended, no doubt it would be revealed along the way.

Commitment made, Andrea turned right.

As usual the art department was a whirl of activity. The activity increased exponentially with the advent of publishing due dates and Miranda demands. It 'slowed' to a normal hectic when things were going as planned. The first thing Andrea noticed was the lack of Nigel. This was without the special vision. It was small things, missing articles and pictures on the idea board, small knick-knacks that were gone and not yet replaced with someone else's. Plus, there was just a sense of difference. As not-straight as Nigel was, he was also a masculine presence. Now, there was an aura of femininity that went beyond the presence of models.

Whatever it was, Andrea realized it might be the perfect time to try and see things differently. While the art department as a whole was a flurry of activity, there were still empty spaces, offices and work places and photo examination rooms. Andrea picked one of those, just a basic work space with a graphics desk and a tall stool and whole bunch of tools and pencils and stacks of artwork and magazines to choose from. It felt a little bit like Lily there, among all those rulers and gizmos that artists seemed to accumulate. Andrea pushed the door so that it was almost closed, and then took a seat by the graphic desk. She was turned away from it, feet on the stool run, hands on her knees.

She closed her eyes and made the switch, envisioning that she could see both the tangible world and the magical world clearly. Everything brightened, sharpened. She imagined the sunglasses effect that Miranda suggested and it toned down considerably. Sighing in relief and wonder, she opened her eyes and let herself take it all in.

She was kind of glad she was sitting down.

The art department wasn't just illuminated by the energy around it. No, the energy flowed and milled around in streaks and wild associations of colors. She spotted some sigils, still impenetrable mysteries, but that wasn't what caught her attention. No it was the fact that each image, each font, each tool appeared to have some sort of energy associated with it and some were stronger than others... better than others.

Andrea turned and picked up two magazines, both old copies of Runway. One, as she recalled, was a very successful month, the other less so. She laid them both out on the graphic table, opened them and began slow turning the pages, half expecting them to burn her fingers or for the pages to melt. They didn't, but it was still an awareness expanding experience.

Runway, she realized, was literally magic.

"Wow," she whispered and she wondered, when exactly all that happened. Was it at printing, or at the moment that Miranda finished editing the Book? And why was one issue more magic than the other? Did it make a difference in sales? Was it a design thing or were the words and images themselves simply imbued with all that was needed to create the phenomenon? She stroked her fingers over the gloss covers respectfully, felt a tingle of power and pondered.

Her awareness was not completely on the magazines. In the background she heard the usual noises of activity, click-clacking heels, susurrus of conversations being held somewhere - some a little more strongly than others -, and the technological noises of machines booting or humming or printing. "Busy, busy," Andrea whispered and contemplated, not for the first time, how good Nigel had been to take time out for a mere assistant. She wished he were around to talk to and considered that, if anyone knew that Miranda really was a Dragon, it had to be him.

She heard a set of heels click-clacking closer and closer. The door pushed open. A feminine voice, Brazilian accent, said, "Oh good. You're here. I have been all over looking..." The sentence trailed off as the person speaking came to a halt in astonishment.

Serena stood there, staring at Andrea in palpable shock. The tall, extraordinarily beautiful blonde's gaze slid up and down the brunette's form in swift and flabbergasted assessment.

The amazement was mutual.

Andrea had started with a smile, and then her eyes widened and she started to blink furiously as she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. Serena wasn't a gold, but Andrea suddenly realized that there were flavors of silver too, and in this case, silver wasn't really a color so much as a filter, an understanding, because Serena's color could be called blonde, not yellow in a butter color sense, but in the hint of brightness. "You're a..." Andrea pointed, "You're a..."

"Dragon..." whispered Serena, in a gasp. She blinked too, closed the door, and then strode forward. Then, she engaged in a bow. "And you are a Dragon's Lady. Lady Andrea." Serena's inflection was entirely different than Miranda's. Andrea understood immediately that this usage was not that of laying claim, but that of someone expressing profound (and she was pretty sure unwarranted) respect.

"Um what? You don't...That's really strange." Andrea finished weakly. "It's kind of... I just.. I don't understand, Serena." Then she grasped the art director's hand, "Please. Just call me Andy."

The art director was taken aback, and for a second all was still. Then she placed her hand on Andrea's, her expression concerned. "All right." Then, she said, lifting her hand and reaching towards Andrea's face, "May I?"

"Yes."

Careful fingers brushed Andrea's right cheek and then drew back. "You are Miranda's."

Andrea's eyes flashed in a completely unexpected, and probably unnecessary, surge of possessiveness at the almost reverent way Serena said the fashion maven's name, "She's mine." She growled, then her eyes widened and she slapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, that came out..." She gave Serena an apologetic glance. "God, Serena, I'm sorry. It's just lately... as in very recently... as in..." She gave a surprised sounding laugh. She then turned, looked at the magazines again, and tried to find the words. "It's all kind of new..."

"I understand."

"I'm glad someone does." Once again Andrea traced the edges of light on the magazine. "I think I may need help."

Serena said, "It would be my honor."

-TDWP-

Once again, Andrea was reminded that contacts, informants, people in the know were bread and butter for the researcher. Miranda might be have sent her to learn, but Serena took on the aspect of tutor.

"Why do people keep doing that?" The frustration was mounting for Andrea as the fifth or six non-human bounced a quick and nervous bow in front of her as they passed. So far, she had met Dragons, Elves and a few something-elses. She wasn't sure, but she thought that maybe they'd even passed a leprechaun on the way to the beauty stations.

"Haven't you seen yourself in the mirror?" Serena asked curiously. The mark was exquisite, and she could not understand how it could have been missed.

"Not really." Andy shrugged. "I've been sick the last few days, and Miranda did my make-up today because my hands are still a little shaky."

Serena sat her down in one of the beautician's chair and turned it around until Andrea could see herself in the mirror. "This is who you are now. This is what you are."

For the first time, Andrea saw the sigil that slid under the skin of her cheek. The mark glowed, in a white so bright it was snow-blue and it scrolled like a living thing, down the side of her face, starting at her temple, curving down and under her right eye, but did not extend all the way across. It was a stylized dragon form, but, could have been half of a butterfly wing too. Andrea lifted her hand to her cheek and thought about how she saw Miranda when the "lights" were on in her head.

She gasped. "Miranda has one too," she whispered in shock.

"Yes. You are bonded. Mated. It is a mark of forever and no one and nothing can take it from you."

"She said everything would change."

"Yes. She has claimed her Lady. You have been awakened. Things will change." Serena glared at something not really in the mirror. Then she refocused, smiling at Andrea as if she were going to say something reassuring. But her head cocked to the side and she did a double-take. "What's this?" She lifted Andrea's face, moved it to the left, with two fingers tucked at her chin. A dark strand so thin, it could have been mistaken for hair, if it hadn't been for the hint of a dark purple glow, was curled at the edge of Andrea's left ear.

"What?" Andrea asked, both wanting to see, and wanting to be reassured.

Serena was about to answer that she did not know, but something tickled her memory. Instead she breathed out a whispered, "Oh. Oh, I see. Of course. It would be true." Her blue-green eyes lit with awareness. "And it is about time." She exhaled. "We must talk. Not everything should come as a complete surprise."

-TDWP-

In a feat that was nearly magical, given the number of people who used the facility, and after snagging coffee for both of them, Serena found a quiet spot in the cafeteria. They sat to down in a cozy corner and Serena laid their coffee before them. Then, in a feat that was actually magical, she drew a sigil in the air.

Andrea watched as the sigil took form, following Serena's motions. It transformed, billowing out like a thick blanket being flipped over them, to form a dome of light, that faded. Andrea looked around and noticed that by all appearances no one was moving, no one was making sounds, no one was staring.

"You stopped time?"

Serena smiled and shook her head. "No. Merely slowed it and then, only for a comparatively short while. I thought, perhaps, we could uses some privacy and quality time." She stirred her coffee, lifted it and took a sip. "When both our cups are empty, then time will resume its normal pace."

"Cool. Can I learn that?"

Serena nodded. "You can now. Though not as you were."

"Too human?"

"Too disbelieving."

"Oh." Andrea nodded. "I can see that." She was always one to let her coffee cool a bit first. "So, I have to say I've been surprised a lot these last couple of days. I could use some nice, simple clarity."

"Clarity, I might be able to offer. Nice and simple, I don't know." Serena shrugged. "I thought, perhaps we might begin with a story. In fact, I think there may be quite a few. I will begin, Andrea, with the story of the Thirteen most powerful Clans and how they became the Seven. Then, I will tell you the story of how it became Six."

"Okay."

"First you must know that Dragons have existed from before this world's first re-birth, before Saurian, which are different than Dragons and born of Lizard stock, before Elves, and definitely before Man…."

-TDWP-

The demise of the Thirteen was fascinating, but it wasn't until Serena started talking about more recent events that Andrea felt more than an intellectual interest. "I will tell you of two Dragon Clans, both of ancient and powerful lineage, both with ancient and powerful Houses. One House ruled, but the other House was on the rise. As always, ruling Houses can grow old. Their power through means normal, devious, magical, and sundry, slowly wain." Serena focused on her cup. It was still mostly full. "This should not have been a tragedy. Most houses and clans experience shifts in power over the years. Dragons, after all, live very long lives. And one only has to look at the stock market or experience a natural calamity to understand how shifts in power occur. But usually the very old houses, they bounce back. Usually. Barring utter catastrophe."

Andrea was not sure why she felt a sense of dread at the pit of her stomach, but she did not dare interrupt.

"As I explained to you before, a Clan is composed of the Dragons, their Mates, their offspring and kin. The House is composed of all their people and their substance. A House may be comprised of any creature willing to align themselves to the will of the head of the Clan, King or Queen. You understand?"

Andrea nodded.

"Each House, if it is kept well, will have servants of power - mages, seers, guardians. As the house grows strong, the magic grows with the House. If the House magic is strong, then these servants of powers may draw strength from that. As it grows weak..."

"So do the ones aligned with it." Andy finished.

"Correct." Serena nodded. "So the Ruling House was failing, but the Dragons were not ready to pass the reigns, though they probably should have, given the signs. As others before them, they dedicated themselves to holding that power and used any means at their disposal to keep it. One day, their seer foretold of the birth of the one meant to take the throne upon maturity."

"Wait, what does that mean?"

"Most Houses come into power, through power. Individual personal power, accumulated through clout and wealth, combined with Clan power. However, every few generations, a destined Queen will be born."

Andy was beginning to see where this was going, intuiting much from what Serena was saying. She whispered, "Miranda."

Serena nodded. "White-gold dragons such as Miranda are one of the two rarest of our kind. The other, the Black-gold, will only be born following the White. They are the most inherently powerful Dragons that would ever be born, and as such, are destined from birth to rule." Serena paused, then sighed. "When Miranda's birth was foreseen, the then current ruling house did what they felt necessary to keep their power. They destroyed Miranda's first House. From the eldest human servant to the youngest Dragon kit, none were spared."

Andrea felt as if a knife had been plunged into her chest. "How did... But Miranda is here."

"Miranda was saved by her sire's closest friend and advisor, an Elven warrior-mage. He secreted her out of their estate and into the Mysts, Elven Lands, the only place that Dragons on their own cannot reach. Even if allied with a rival clan, no Elf would ever betray the Mysts for the sake of outsider politics. Only those invited or taken can find the way there, and only those with no ill intent in their hearts may enter those sacred lands."

Andrea took her first sip from the cup, needing a moment to process. She felt tears forming at the horrible loss Miranda must have felt. She thought of her own family and could not imagine having all of that stripped away.

"The Black-Gold Dragon," Andrea said abruptly, wanting to think of something to distract from the rising grief. She knew, however, she would have to talk to Miranda about it. "Do they rule a different continent or something?"

Serena pressed her lips together. "No. They do not rule separately from the White-Gold. Theirs is a destined Bond."

"Serena," Andrea said, gripping her coffee mug so hard her knuckles turned white and the cup cracked, "That's not possible. I am mated with Miranda."

"Ah, but I am not finished with the tale, am I?"

"Maybe you ought to skip the story telling part." A hint of warning colored Andrea's voice, even as the mildly warm liquid spilled through her fingers.

"The power of the Bond between the White-Gold and the Black-Gold dragon is so deep and strong, that it could unbalance whole worlds without their proper Lady."

"I don't understand. Make it simpler."

"Seers, Mages and Guardians. There is one other, one who is never a servant, but is a being of power, an equal to the Dragons and as rare and precious as can be possible. Every Dragon longs for one. Not every Dragon can have one."

"Serena!" Andrea's hand slammed down on the table angrily, causing the blond to jump. "Skip the cryptic crap and spit it out!"

"Dragon Lords and Ladies." Serena answered quickly. It would not do to upset her Queen's Lady, especially if that Queen is Miranda Priestly. And Andy seemed to be coming into her newly awakening power with an astonishing quickness. "They are the Divine Mates, the Dragon's equivalent of a Soul Mate. Some are born to families of generations of Dragon Lords and Ladies. Houses try to cultivate them. Some are born in the wilds, not knowing that their true calling until Fate decides that they are ready. They are magic incarnate, the great balances, the Heart Guardians, but their calling, and their power, only comes to being when they have been truly Mated. Lords and Ladies are never Dragons themselves, however, the magic of the bond puts them on equal footing, in terms of power and longevity, with their Dragon."

Andrea sat back in her chair, her eyes thoughtful. "Miranda called me her 'Lady'. So did you."

"You are." Serena nodded.

"So you're telling me that I was always destined to be with Miranda," Andrea continued, "and there is another one out there for us both."

"Yes, and yes."

"How are we supposed to know who that other one is?"

"That is a very good question. It is not always about the knowing. Did you know that Miranda was yours the day you met her?"

Andrea was about to say yes, then paused. "No. But... I felt drawn to her."

"But not compelled. The Bond is thorough, but if not recognized or denied, it can be subtle. And takes time to mature." Serena said. She took another sip. "You, however, now have an advantage."

"I do?"

"You have new eyes." Serena set her cup down and leaned forward. Again she asked, "May I?" Andrea nodded. Serena touched Andrea's left cheek near her ear, "Take a closer look in the mirror next time. According to what I see, you have already been in contact with your other Dragon."

Andrea drew in a breath of surprise. "How is that possible? I mean, how ..."

"The bond can be initiated at the slightest touch, at a short conversation, or even upon the first true scenting, as soon as you are deemed 'ready'. It doesn't take much to start it. Once those who are to be bonded have made some sort of contact, it begins."

"But, I haven't..."

"That you yet know about or recognize."

Andrea blinked. Then shut up. She nodded, feeling the edges of panic seep away. She felt much calmer now that she knew that she had not found Miranda only for her to be cruelly taken away. She also felt a strange, exquisite joy that there might be another. She corrected herself. Not might. Would be.

It was all about the missing pieces. She'd always been aware that she was a little different. And yet now, with all these 'impossible' things happening, she realized that the missing pieces in her life were finally beginning to make sense.

She looked at the spill of coffee on the table, then at her cup. It was two thirds empty, even with the crack. "It looks like we still have some time."

"Yes." Serena relaxed into her chair again, "What would you like to know?"

"Miranda told me that some Dragons are hers and some aren't. And now I know what Houses are. Dragons don't necessarily have to be kin to be of the House."

"Correct."

"So, here you are..."

"I come from a small, but influential Clan in Brazil. Our House has always allied with the Priestly's, even before it was called Priestly." Serena smiled wistfully. Then looked sadly into her cup. "When we found out that there was a survivor, the option to sever ties was discussed. As was the option to hold to our vows."

"How did that go?"

"Ours is a Clan of honor, Andrea."

-TDWP-

"So it's kind of like the mafia? If someone is asked to join a House it's not an offer they can refuse?"

Serena gave Andrea an amused glance. "More like a fairy tale feudal kingdom. Those stories of Dragons stealing princesses, they started from a true place. Only there was no stealing, just the usual exchanges of partners. One can, of course, refuse, but why would one want to? At one time the human kingdoms and the dragon kingdoms were fully aligned. But, power likes to consolidate. And tales of Dragons finding their true mates became tales of Dragons eating them. Wholly unnecessary slander, but it let them justify their actions."

"Dragon hunting was real?"

"Yes. But it ended. Dragons are not harmless or weak. We promised the utter destruction of the human race if it continued. Fortunately, the children of those old kings were able to... see reason." Serena gave Andrea a dangerously toothy grin as she swirled a spoon in her dwindling coffee. The brunette heard what had been unspoken. Those old kings did not survive the reinstation of peace between the two races. She briefly wondered if the Dragons ate them as punishment. She could visualize it, if not believe it.

"Glad to hear it. I would've hated not being born."

"All things considered, so would we all." Serena smirked. "Even without the bond between you and Miranda, Andy, I believe that the world would have been a much sadder place if you were not in it."

"What about you, Serena?" Andrea asked. "Have you found your Lady or Lord yet?"

"I know who she is, yes," Serena admitted, "but she is not ready yet. I think, however, that it will be soon."

Andrea touched her right cheek, feeling the mark under her skin tingle under her fingertips. "I hope so. It's..." She smiled warmly and with a tender surprise, "kind of amazing."

-TDWP-

"So, even right now, there's a battle going on." Andrea pointed at some of the darker spots she noticed in the corners, places that weren't lit, and had a sense of something less... friendly about them.

"I wouldn't call it a battle. You know the industry is fierce, people want to know what one's opponent is doing is everywhere. It may not even have anything to do with Miranda's House."

"And if one has access to magical means they're going to use it." Andrea stared up at the wall again. "But those don't ... they don't feel like spies, Serena. They seem a little... I dunno... less friendly."

"There is a reason that Wards are so diligently attended to, Andrea. Not everyone has Runway or House Priestly's best interest in mind."

"So if this isn't a battle, what is?"

"Andrea, unlike the Bond, when you see it, you will know it."

-TDWP-

"Do you mind if I come to you with questions? I mean after this?" Andrea looked at her empty cup. Serena was on her last sip.

"My Lady, you may come to me at any time. You may call, day or night. As with your mate, I am at your service."

"I..." Andrea grimaced a near smile. "That's so going to take some getting used to."

Serena lifted the cup to her lips, her expression amused. "Oh, but you will."

Time began its normal Runway rush again.

-TDWP-

True to Serena's word, despite the length of time she and the art director had spent in that magical space, only five minutes had passed. This did not mean she didn't need to take a personal moment after. It had been real time to her. Serena had said, as they ditched the broken cup and put away the other one, "Now you know one our secrets for dealing with those rushed changes of Miranda's. This is how we manage the miracles. Well, some of them. Obviously, those who are not of us, who do not know, do not have the same option and we are careful, my Lady..."

"Andy."

"Andy," Serena corrected, "to operate at what others consider normal." She smiled, "But this does not mean I won't take advantage when we have the option."

"Oh. I hear you. But now I know why Miranda fully expects fixes to happen at that instant."

"Yes. It is a two-edged sword."

"Mm. That said, speaking of sharp objects, if I don't want to be on the chopping block, I better get back to my research. Thanks Serena."

"You're welcome, Andy."

-TDWP-

Miranda supposed, after several hours had passed without sign or word from Andrea, that perhaps she should have been more specific. Although she was impressed and amused at the young woman's will power. The erotic call of the Bond was a strong impulse and grew stronger the longer it was ignored. And she had, she admitted to herself, put in a good effort of testing Andrea's and her own strength in the matter. Perhaps foolishly so. She did not know what it was about the younger woman that caused her to test limits.

Miranda knew very well that Andrea demonstrated tenacity and stubbornness, sometimes at the most inconvenient times. At others, it was exhilarating to watch her mate dig in. By appearances alone, one could easily underestimate those qualities in Andrea.

It had been, the Dragon considered, quite long enough. She was hungry; not just for food.

Items she had been working on previously now lay forgotten on her desk. With a subtle movement, Miranda's hand moved until light looped around each of her fingertips. She had plucked at the thread between them, now so much stronger and vibrant than when she had utilized it to influence Andrea's unexpected confession. This time her purpose was different and much simpler, a good thing, since outright manipulation of her mate was now out of the question. She tugged, sending along a mild summons of want.

Then, planning on the success of the venture, she said, "Emily, I will be taking lunch in my office today. So will Andrea..." She made their orders in quick succession, leaving it to the expertise of her assistants to see the demand was met. Then, mission essentially complete, she decided to take a moment to prepare for the next round. She looked at her desk, the object of which had been part of several distracting fantasies that morning and considered that perhaps it was a good thing that office doors closed and that she had always been adamant about not having security cameras installed in her personal domain.

-TDWP-

Andrea, mid-conversation with one of the writers of Runway, stopped speaking abruptly. She turned her head to look back in the direction towards Miranda's office. "I'm sorry. I just missed what you said." She smiled apologetically.

"I was was saying that ..."

Andrea interrupted again. "Uhm. Would you mind terribly if I got back to you? I need to excuse myself for a moment."

"Sure. That's okay."

"Thanks." Andrea waved briefly, pivoted away from the Runway journalist, and left. She wasn't entirely sure why, but there was this feeling, a tugging sensation, like someone was trying to pull her somewhere. Only on the inside of her. She wanted a quiet place to try and figure it out.

She ducked into an empty office, one of those open door types, and settled against the wall beside the door. "Okay. This is new." She had been practicing her ability to shift between visions and had been, she hoped, getting better at it. Certainly it was getting easier.

She looked in the full length mirror across from where she was standing, tracing the glowing bond mark on her temple, where she felt the tugging. To her surprise, the light coiled around her finger, but that was not what held her attention. No, what did that, was the fact that the light gave her the sensation of Miranda.

The tendril of light now curled around her fingertips, stretched in a direction, fading to a point. Andrea experienced an epiphany of sorts. "Oh. It's a pager." She considered what that might mean. "I have my cell. She could have just called." Then she grinned. "This is so her."

Deciding that she wanted to try something, Andrea imagined the light curling around her fingers like a ring, rather than at her fingertips. The light, obedient to her whim, moved. The beacon remained. That was much more convenient.

Now she wouldn't look like a dork with her hand pointing forward. Dropping her arm down, she smoothed her clothes, checked her hair, nodded firmly at the mirror. "Let's go see what our Dragon wants, shall we?"

-TDWP-

Miranda suppressed a gasp as she felt a response to her summoning, but not the way she expected. Her brow rose in amusement. "My, my, you do learn quickly, don't you, my love?"

She tapped her chin thoughtfully and a wicked gleam sparked in her eyes. With another subtle flex of her fingertips, she sent a different kind of impulse along their line, one conveying a feeling that had been with her through the morning; need. She let it warm through her body, to her fingertips and flow into the light. She added, just for sport, words; making it an invocation and no mere summons. "Come to me." The light took flame, like a phoenix's wing, and sparked.

She felt the sensation reverberate, more strongly than she had anticipated. Heated moisture pooled between her thighs as desire pulsed through her. She throbbed with need, knew it had to remain unmet, but that she must take a moment to recover and prepare. She stood up, pacing out of her office. "I will return. Have lunch ready. Do not let Andrea leave."

-TDWP-

Andrea gasped and nearly collapsed at the bond suddenly pulsed, sending a wave of need flooding her body. She heard Miranda's voice in her mind, summoning her, and she could not help but speed up her steps. She wanted to run, but even now, she knew not to draw attention to her movements by rushing into Miranda's office.

Still, she moved with composed alacrity. An unconscious sensuality put a sway to her hips and power to her walk. The beacon remained, pulsing, with a heartbeat not her own. She could feel the heat thrill up her arm and curl through her body. She wanted to hasten, but forced herself to keep an even pace. Part of it was the realization that she had been struggling with the need to see Miranda all morning. While she wanted to be there, wanted to see her, she didn't want it to be about Miranda's whim.

She stopped.

Then smiled wickedly.

If Miranda could do it. She could. Maybe not as well, because it wasn't like she'd done it all her life or anything. However, there was a reason that she'd had 4.0s all her life. Like she told Miranda that fateful day, she caught on quick.

She started walking again, this time at a much slower, more relaxed pace. She wanted to be subtle, she wanted the message to be clear. She didn't want to summon Miranda. After all, Andrea was already on her way.

She visualized the energy between them, using the ring shape on her hand. She imagined that shape flowing around Miranda, and in her mind's eye she could see Miranda's mark. She imagined touching it, swirling her fingertips through the energy of the mark and then down, drawing a fine line down cheek and neck. She pressed her lips together, as if kissing the pulse point there, and moved her tongue as if licking it. Then, she imagined sending that message, very firmly.

The light encircling her fingers flared, brightened to a blue fire, and blazed away towards her intended. She felt the backfire, a thrill that scorched and sang in her veins. It was, she realized, the equivalent of the power saying, "message sent successfully."

She wondered if mages felt this a lot, and put the thought aside to ask ... someone, if she ever met a mage. She imagined, given the immediate shakiness of her knees and the wowed sensation within, that there were some feedback moments that might be less fun. But this was... good.

It was very good.

-TDWP-

"Naughty."

Miranda was certainly glad she been alone when that little number hit. She reminded herself again, as she closed and locked the door of the staff bathroom, that Andrea was a fast learner. Then, because it was necessary, she pulled up her skirt and stripped out of her panties. She pushed her skirt back down, gazed at the lace undergarment in her hand. It was now useless to her...

She grinned wickedly as she realized her idea would take care of two problems at once. The underwear would burn up as a sacrifice and Andrea would learn not to play unless she meant it.

-TDWP-

Andrea was getting closer to the office, still feeling the tug, still feeling pretty confident, when suddenly she was surrounded; by scent, by that specific odor that was pure Miranda. An overwhelming raw eroticism thrilled through her and she bit her lip to halt the moan that was trying to rip itself out of her throat. She wasn't completely successful, but at least it was low enough to only draw a little attention from the clackers rushing past her. She cast a glance around, suddenly grateful for the overwhelming rush of the people who moved in and out of Miranda's immediate vicinity. No one ever wanted to get caught not being where Miranda felt they should be.

Her focus narrowed, she now knew she needed one thing and one thing only. She quickened her pace. It was time to find Miranda. She stopped concentrating on the beacon, now believing herself to be close enough to find the editrix on her own.

In her urgency, Andrea powered past empty assistant desks and into Miranda's office. Emily and Maria were putting on the finishing touches of lunch on Miranda's desk. The brunette flicked a glance down at the food, which was well arranged. She couldn't be bothered with it.

Her frustration edged her voice with a new authority. "Where is she?"

Both assistants jerked to attention at her tone. Emily stared at Andrea, while Marie managed a stammer of, "She said she'd be right back."

"Fine. Thanks. I'll find her." Andrea's nostril's flared lightly and she turned, following the delicate trail she'd suddenly discovered.

Maria squeaked, "She said for you not to go anywhere. When you got here. I mean..."

Emily finally gathered her wits, and grabbed Maria by an arm. "She knows what Miranda meant. Come on." She pushed Maria forward and past herself, then snapped at Andrea, as if the young woman was a puppy, "Stay."

Still caught up in the heat of her need and their battle of wills, the brunette reacted instinctively to the insolence in the other woman's voice. Andrea's lips curled back in a snarl. A low, dangerous growl slid past clenched teeth. Emily froze at the growl coming from behind her, before continuing out of the office that much faster, dragging Marie with her.

Now at a loss, Andrea watched them go. Her skin, which previously had been behaving itself and feeling quite normal, tingled. Needing something to do, she walked to the desk and the second chair that had been placed on the opposite of Miranda's facing towards the editrix's usual location. She sat down, taking a moment to examine the meal before her and smiling. Hers was an astounding burger, with steak fries and a white sauce that she suspected was ranch dressing, while Miranda's was a perfect steak, with her usual condiments. Both were under the heat shields, waiting for their audience. "At least I get carbohydrates," Andrea murmured, as she thought about the demise of a perfect steak long ago. The more things change...

"That's because you will need them," Miranda said, suddenly behind Andrea. Her hands pressed on the young woman's shoulders, keeping her from jumping up as the words sizzled between them. "Hungry?"

Andrea nodded mutely at the loaded question, not daring to reply because of what she might answer. Miranda walked away, but not towards the desk like Andrea thought, so the brunette turned to see. She watched as the door was shut and locked.

Miranda turned, feeling the weight of her mate's gaze. "I intended to wait a little longer. A meal seemed like such a reasonable thing mere moments ago." She looked at her desk, without quite looking at Andrea, "And I did have plans, but, it would be a shame to ruin the meal."

She extended a hand and walked towards Andrea, "Come with me?"

Relieved, Andrea was up out of the chair within the space of a blink. She grasped Miranda's hand, "Whenever and wherever you'll have me."

Miranda hissed in a delighted breath, and began tugging Andrea towards the office sitting area. Normally, when not scheduled for meetings, the area had clothes or objects strewn about for examination. Now it was an obviously cleared space. Miranda had kept her assistants busy that morning. "One of the side benefits of rank, my dear, is that I get the couch. I am finding that quite useful at the moment. It is fold-out, as I've slept in the office on more than one occasion, but I don't think we'll get that far..." She did not know why she was telling Andrea this. The woman had been her assistant. She knew.

As she led her Lady, the fingers of her other hand wove through the air, and Andrea's 'vision' saw the sigil she was creating. As they drew closer to Miranda's chosen destination, she turned back and noticed Andrea watched the sigil fade, "It will soundproof the room until dispelled," she explained. "Now, I can't stay in these clothes for another moment longer. Help me get them off."

It was Andrea's turn to inhale sharply. Her hand squeezed lightly in Miranda's in response. Her first desire was to rip the clothing off, but she knew the Dragon was perfectly capable of doing that kind of thing herself.

Miranda needed care; gentle handling.

Hands trembling, Andrea started with the belt, undoing it with deliberate haste and then sliding it out and away. She laid the belt on one of the chairs. Then, she started on Miranda's blouse, unbuttoning it slowly.

"By all means,"

"Moving glacially." Andrea interrupted with a smirk. Then she looked seriously at her Dragon. "That's exactly what I intend to do, because if I go faster, it's being torn off. Choices, Miranda."

A puff of laughter escaped Miranda's lips. "And if I told you I wanted faster..."

Andrea's hands clenched around the fabric. Miranda reached up to clasp them.

"Kiss me first, and then go slowly."

Andrea pulled Miranda closer, and then pressed her lips against her mate's. She hummed into the kiss, feeling the pleasure of it all the way through and forced her hands to stay still. When she pulled back, Miranda's blue eyes were glazed. Andrea realized that maybe she was going too slow, and picked up the pace, unbuttoning the blouse, and then lifting it away from the hem of the skirt and off of Miranda. She paused to appreciate what she was seeing, the firm body, and the lacy white bra. She resisted the urge to lean in and kiss the edges of Miranda's breast that showed above the bra. She forced herself to turn away and she set it neatly on the chair.

When she returned to Miranda, she grasped her mate by the hips and leaned in to kiss her again. It was extraordinary, even better than the last time. Her senses heightened. Everything felt sweeter, more intense. She pulled back, deliberately, breathing hard.

Miranda reached behind herself, undid the snap of her bra in one easy movement and shimmied out of it. She carelessly tossed it aside, letting it land wherever it may. Andrea licked her lips and started to crouch, tugging down on the skirt at the same time. She paused to capture one of those lovely, stiff nipples in her mouth. She spent time with it, flicking the nub with her tongue and tugging on it lightly with her teeth. Then, because she hadn't really forgotten, she abandoned that task, trailing her lips down Miranda's supple belly.

She dragged the skirt down, intending stop at the other woman's panties, but they weren't there.

"Oh." Brown eyes filled with wonder gazed back up into azure. "For me?"

"More like, because of you, but yes."

Andrea nibbled her lower lip, but finished drawing the skirt off. Miranda stepped out, and once again, the brunette stepped away and put the item of clothing safely on the chair. Then, in a burst of speed, she kicked off her heels, began undoing and unclasping her clothes, shedding them like a chameleon sheds her skin. The clothing fell in careless heaps at the foot of the chair.

Miranda watched her with some consternation.

Andrea said, tone gentle and respectful, "I'm not the one who has to be immaculate. But I need to be naked for you."

Then, she nearly slid to a kneeling position, grasping one of Miranda's ankles. Taking the hint, the Dragon lifted her foot. Andrea slid the shoe off, carefully and set it aside. And then the other. "The stockings. Can we keep them on?" She blushed at the asking, but the contrast of the black stockings made her mouth water.

"Oh yes."

"Good." Then, Andrea said, "I know there should be more foreplay, but..." still kneeling, she grasped Miranda's hips, and leaned forward, until she could lay that sacred kiss upon her mate's sex. She sighed and closed her eyes in bliss at the first lick, and the second, and the next few that she swirled through her lover's heated wetness. "I've been thinking of this all day."

Miranda said breathlessly, "Perhaps, the couch."

Andrea nodded, allowing Miranda to leave her grasp only because she knew what was to come. The older woman grasped the edge of a throw and floated it out, so it covered the seat. Then she settled herself on it, spreading her legs for Andrea's hungry view.

The brunette woman prowled forward on her hands and knees, making Miranda's body clench and flood at the vision of faux-submissiveness, and slid between her Dragon's legs. She clasped Miranda's thighs with her hands and slowly drew her body up, skin upon skin, until she was face to face with her mate. Instead of taking her lover's lips with her own, however, she leaned to the left, Miranda's right, and kissed the mark, drawing her tongue along the magical lines, tasting their electricity and sparking it to life. The light began to swirl around her tongue, accepting her right to claim it, to draw on it, use it for herself and her lover's pleasure. "Mine," she whispered. By the time she reached Miranda's lips, the lines of power were drifting between them, spiraling across their connection and down Miranda's neck, shoulder, body.

Miranda groaned into the kiss that followed. Her hips arched towards Andrea, and with talent that seemed supernatural, the younger woman's touch found her, spread her, and tenderly explored.

"Get on my lap, Andrea."

Her Lady paused, and then moved until she was straddling Miranda, knees on the outside of the Dragon's hips.

Miranda's expression took on a new pleasure. "Much better." Her hands sculpted down Andrea's body, teasing, scraping, and pinching lightly on the way down. She sifted through fine chocolate curls, probing lightly at first, noting how excited her mate was. Then her touch deepened and filled. Andrea clenched around her, arched towards her. Miranda brought her free hand back up and grasped her mate's long hair, pulling at it so she could slide her lips more freely along Andrea's neck.

Andrea never stopped what she was doing to Miranda. They rocked into one another, their urgency blending and spiking until their skin was tingling and their bond flashed around them like a live thing. Eros blazed through them, scorchingly hot and demanding, until they had to give, had to surrender to each other. Their kiss blended the sound of their voices, muffled the primal shout of final release.

Miranda drew Andrea close, after, held her tightly while their heartbeats settled. "I love you, my Dragon," Andrea whispered. "I love you so much."

"And I, you, my Lady."

-TDWP-

If lunch ran a little long for Miranda and Andrea, none would have dared comment on it. As Andrea prepared to leave, Miranda had said, "I will expect you to meet me at 6pm. Consider that there is a time differential of 5 hours between here and London. Roy will be picking us up." It was insurance. "Also, stop by the Closet. Find what you need for tomorrow. What you find is yours to keep. Have it delivered to Roy. That's all."

Andrea barely registered that comment. She was still recovering.

Andrea left the office appearing somewhat stunned and a little less pristine than when she went in. She drifted past the assistants desks, oblivious to the unusual silence. Her mind was on other things.

She had, actually, when they finally got around to eating, given a report of what she had learned so far. It was, of course, unfinished, and she had left out some portions, feeling it would be safer to wait until they were at home. Miranda, had allowed it, but the evolution of their conversation had refocused Andrea's attention on the task at hand. It was a deliberate thing, because though they were sated, the bond was new and fresh; prone to spiking at unexpected moments.

They needed the distance that Andrea's research provided, especially if Miranda was going to get anything done. At the same time, they needed the essential nearness. In case.

Both of them felt as if they'd been set to torch, with the fire just barely banked.

Andrea decided she needed to have a whole floor between them, or she'd just turn right back around. She shivered lightly at the awareness and exhaled. When the elevator arrived, she stepped in, turned. She could see Miranda in her office, watching her. She felt the lightest sensation upon her right cheek. A kiss.

Well, she couldn't help the grin that crossed her face as the elevator doors closed.

-TDWP-

Cruella was in the middle of a truly awesome rant when her cell rang. A quick glance at the caller ID had her snapping at the person she was already talking to, "I don't care how you do it! Just get it done! If you can't do it, find someone who can!"

It was as good a place to hang up on the other caller as any. So she did.

"Andy. Darling!"

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything important. I just wanted to try and call a little earlier this time."

"How thoughtful." Cruella could hear a new softness in Andrea's voice, a kind of satisfied purr, which sent a little tickle of pleasure through her spine. She could imagine what put that kind of smoke into the other woman's voice. "And aside from a promise, what brings you to call this moment?"

"Well, a couple of things. First, I'm standing in the Closet at Runway looking for something outrageous to wear tomorrow."

"Party?"

"Office. It's a bet with an previous co-worker. Long story."

"So you don't actually work there."

"It's Runway. So, long story."

"Ah, I read some of your story on the web."

"I need to get an iPhone. Then you could see me grinning. Gotta love the power of Google."

"Indeed. But, back to the matter at hand, you do not, necessarily need to appear professional, just dazzling?"

"Ooh, that's a good word. But it has to be exotic too. We've got a little of everyone here. I think even one or two of yours, somewhere. I'm size four, just so we're all in the know."

"Then you won't want any of Claude's. He's a monster for zeroes. Look for..."

Their conversation continued, interspersed with suggestions of designers to look for from Cruella and the resulting descriptions of available outfits when Andy found them. Eventually they found something that would work, and refocused the conversation to more usual lines of inquiry.

"So, how are the new PR people working out?"

"They want me to attend a Dog Show, of all things."

"It'll help with visibility," Andrea commented as the final box was bundled away by one of the ubiquitous Closet assistants. "Besides, it could be fun."

"Dogs, Andy."

Andrea bit her lip to keep from laughing at Cruella's tone. "Hey, you might be surprised. Think of it as a fashion show. There are a whole bunch of different kinds of shows too. They even have one where the dogs are dressed up. It could be a whole new couture option."

"God help me."

"It certainly won't hurt to consider it at least. And dogs are good people. Most of them anyway."

"Dogs are not people, Andy."

"Let me try this again. They're loyal. When they like you, they really like you and you can do no wrong. And, they come in all shapes and sizes. You should see Patricia. She's massive. Of course, now that I think on it, a St. Bernard makes total sense."

"You have sincerely lost me."

"Sorry, Miranda has a dog. I used to walk her all the time. Now the new Emily does it."

"Wait, you can have someone else see to the daily care?"

"Sure. People do it for kids, and their kids still love them. Why not dogs?"

"Hmm. I will consider a Dog Show, then. I'll have Alonzo do the research."

"I think it will be good for you, Cruella. If nothing else, it will help with the public. Especially considering the nature of the game."

"You may have a point." Cruella sighed. "And with that, I must really get back to work, though I am loathe to do so. Call me tomorrow and let me know of the success?"

Andrea's voice warmed, "Of course."

-TDWP-

Oddly soothed by the phone call, Cruella sat back casually in her magnificent office chair, contemplating. The day's frustrations had been many, but now they seemed much less like roadblocks and merely like hurdles.

A knock at the door interrupted her pleasant mood and brought her sharply back to her reality. "Enter!"

Jasper opened the door. He wore a grey professional pinstripe suit, something inexpensive, but appropriate to the setting. "Sorry Ms. DeVil. Afraid we have something that might need your attention."

-TDWP-

The silver and black Panther De Ville roared onto Cruella's estate, past dark iron gates that swung open with a flick of her wrist. She ground her teeth together, eyes narrowed fiercely, as the time from the road to her doorstep seemed to elongate interminably. The car stopped with a growl, and her bodyguard stepped out of the vehicle causing it to rock with the lightening of its load.

That never ceased to amuse and amaze her, and was just enough of a mood lightener that her expression altered. With a few deep breaths she acclimated herself. As annoyed as she was by Drakon's arrival, she was equally pleased by the effect of what he must be seeing.

The estate, in a matter of days, had evolved and improved under the care of her new minions. While the building was still a most intimidating grey-stone structure, the protective sigils had been re-empowered, the grass and trees miraculously revived, the windows were once again see through. By all appearances, if one were to consider these changes, it seemed that Cruella now cared.

She smirked, realizing that her minions probably put a pin in Drakon's wings when they halted him at the gate. That smirk stayed with her as her door was opened and a massive hand extended for her to take. She might have her moments of striking terror into her people, but she had always been polite to them. "Thank you, Ben."

She stepped out, both six inch heels to the ground, and then strolled to her door under escort. At least she knew she would be meeting her cousin looking good.

Alonzo met her there, somehow miraculously, as usual, arriving prior. "Has he been very bad?" she asked. The man's stutter was worse, as he replied in denial, which told her instantly that her manservant was fibbing. She shrugged out of her jacket and handed it to him. "Which salon?"

"The Black, Ms. DeVil."

"Tea has been served?"

"Yes, Ms. DeVil."

"I shall take it from here."

Ben followed silently and watchfully behind her. It was the first time, in ever, actually, that she felt moderately protected going into one of these encounters. Not that she could not defend herself, but this extra back up made her feel somewhat more secure in a way she had never felt before. It made her wonder why she had not procured services before; aside from the fact she'd not really needed them. Or thought she hadn't.

And she realized she had been subtly dissuaded from building up her portion of the House by the very person she was about to see. Interesting.

As she made her way to this impromptu meeting, it came to her in a cumulative flash, as if she'd been thinking upon the idea for hours, that he had been subtly trying to weaken her powerbase. Cruella's illuminations and understandings had always been quickfire. Her genius was in taking small details and in rapid near intuition, making something of them. Sometimes she had the answer before the question was even asked.

She could track the emotional manipulations, the moments when Drakon said things at just the right time to stir her up. But the other methods he might be employing bore some investigation, as each act would have a specific result and that needed tracking. She did not know how he was doing it. Yet. She did not know with whom he was doing it. Yet. But she would find out. The thing she knew with absolute clarity were his motivations, which remained as tiresome as they'd always been. He intended to force her hand, to make her mesh her interests with his.

She paused a few feet from the Salon's door and considered her strategy in light of that particular illumination. As it stood, she realized she had to shift his perspective more. She turned to Ben and said, "Now, don't be frightened." Then she put on a smile she hadn't worn since her blond days and strode into the room with nothing to give away her previous thoughts.

"Drakon. How good of you to come."

Drakon was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He was also the epitome of the negative stereotype sometimes associated with the type; conceited, narcissistic and so full of crap that he could fertilize the world multiple times over. He turned from staring out the window, glass filled with amber liquid in his hand, his expression somber as he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Apparently he hadn't found the tea to his liking.

The smile threw him. He gave her a disconcerted look as if the things he had been practicing in his head had been stalled. His voice was as handsome as his looks, but not as oily as his demeanor. "Cruella." He dipped to receive the air kisses, and she stepped away from him quickly before he could make more of it, as he usually tried to do.

She gathered up a tea cup, filled it, and sat down elegantly, keeping her expression pleasant.

Drakon's visage darkened and he glanced meaningfully at Ben, who took up position the door. "Aren't you going to send him out."

She raised the cup to her lips, sipped slowly, and set her cup in the saucer. "No." She said the word sweetly, but left no option for argument or discussion. "So, what brings you to my door today, cousin? House matters or personal?"

His gaze flickered back towards the giant at the door and then at Cruella. He looked at his drink as if he could find the answer there.

"Well?" she asked, faking her lauded impatience. She observed as his expression changed. It was just a flicker of a heartbeat before it wiped from his face. He had smiled.

Ah. So, premise verified.

"Really, Cruella, you might give a man time to think."

"Why? You obviously came here on a mission. You only ever visit when you have one." She arched a brow at him, and waited for the next volley.

"Aren't you going to invite me to sit?"

"No." She said it in that same sweet tone she'd used before, and once again followed it with a redirect. "But, as family, you always have the option."

He nearly did a double take, but somehow stifled it. She watched him over her teacup and then set her cup down again. "Oh. Uhm. Of course." Ruffled, he took a seat across from her and sat back in it as if he owned it already. He set his drink aside.

"I'm actually here to ask if you've found an escort to the Dragon's Ball."

"Hmm. I take it you have a proposal."

His eyes lit. She saw his fingertips move on the armrest and felt a wave of something try to wash over her. "Come with me."

Really. A compulsion? It was hardly even an invitation. Had he tried to use it before? This was too much.

She held very still, considering her options. The Black-Gold Dragon within her wanted to come to the forefront and snap the other Dragon's throat out. The child of House De Vil knew better than to let it. Yet. On the other hand, this was bad form. Drakon needed his hand slapped. Knowing she would lose some advantage she decided to play some of her cards now, but for less blood than she was owed. She lifted her tea again, holding it with pinky extended, and made a small cutting motion with that fingertip. The compulsion dropped like a snake shedding its skin. "Drakon, that was ham-handed. Our grandmother would be ashamed."

He had the nerve to gape at her. "What are you..."

"Do not bother. We will simply say that my plans do not coincide with yours, shall we?" She did not point out that it would be most inconvenient for him to be revealed for manipulating the heir; there were actual consequences to that kind of treachery. But, his effort, as obvious to her now that it was part of a long term cumulative effort, was too small a thing to truly be counted as evidence.

"Cruella, this is a mistake. The House is well aware of the timing of the event. You should at least consider..."

She lifted a hand. "Stop there. First, it is not the House's business. It is mine. Second, it is not up to you."

"I am merely trying to look after your best interests..."

"Really." Cruella's smile turned draconic. "I think, perhaps the opposite is true, don't you?" She set her cup aside and stood up, seeming to grow in height, "I think your interests hold much more value to you than mine. And I wonder, dear Cousin, what you have been up to lately. Her amber gaze narrowed. "Indeed, I wonder what an examination of certain books of fortune might reveal."

"Cruella, that is completely uncalled for."

"Is it, cousin? As I recall, you were forwarded a generous sum not to very long ago. Do you still have any of it?" Again, illumination. Gambling debts were a great motivator for impetuous decisions.

"That is none of your business."

She cocked her head and nodded, "Quite right. Quite right. You begin to see, Cousin, how it feels."

He flushed angrily, and looked away from her.

"I think you should go now, Drakon. We both know you'll try again at the Ball, but I am growing bored and angry now. I would hate to say something you would regret."

He cleared his throat, reached for the drink and reconsidered. Then stood up. "This is a mistake."

"It certainly was," Cruella said in remarkably even tones. "But don't consider it a wasted trip. Do tell our cousins how I am faring. I'm sure they will be most... entertained."


	6. Chapter 6

TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 6

Andrea woke up to an empty bed, but smiled anyway. She stretched, luxuriating in the deep comfort of an afterglow nap. Sighing happily, having been well loved that morning, she finally rolled over and up. If this kept up, morning might become one of her favorite times. Then again, with Miranda, noon was good. Night was good. Actually, pretty much anytime of the day was good when it came to being with Miranda.

Contentment rolled through her walk as she made her way to the bathroom. Once again she had come to the conclusion that Steven was full of crap. Miranda was a most attentive lover and friend. Mate. It wasn't a matter of being willing to make time. She had always been willing. She was not always able, which was a shame, but that was how it was. The silver-haired Dragon had a calling and that was, at the moment, Runway. It was also, building her House. This was something Andrea understood in her bones and her effort would be to add to the power of the House to the best of her ability; modest as it might be. As for availability, it was about the shoe being on the other foot. Inequities remained between expectations of who should "give up" their time and effort for the sake of the relationship. It was a constant unconscious tug and pull of traditions between people of rank, or men and women in well-practiced gender-roles. It had been the same battle between herself and Nate, Andrea had long ago realized.

On the other hand, Andrea's time was much more flexible, in so many ways. Which meant that when it came to lunch time, she was the one who went to Runway or wherever Miranda wished her to be. At least Emily was no longer snipping at her and Marie had finally gotten over that tic from the time Andrea had territorially growled. It was amazing what a bribe of dark chocolate M&Ms at the right time could do.

She grinned and stopped to look at herself in the mirror, something she enjoyed more these days. She pressed her fingertips to lips well kissed. She had not thought it possible, but Miranda's mark glowed even more. It moved when they made love, extending and following the trails they made on each others body. The tail of the dragon mark had wrapped itself around her right ear, like a happy little vine.

She turned to look at the left side of her face, the mark there too had been inching forward. It glowed, dark purple, like the grape of a fine wine. The tendril wove itself around her ear, loop after loop along the shell, unfinished, but potent. It was odd, but, once she accepted it was supposed to be there, the mark had curled in like a cat content to wait. It sometimes throbbed when she and Miranda made love, and there was an echo... a sense of someone who might be familiar there...

She wondered if that other one felt them more strongly during those passionate moments and what it might be like.

If her other Dragon did, Andrea didn't mind at all. Serena, it turned out, had been right, it wasn't exactly about the knowing. Yet. Andrea kept her guesses to herself and did not play temptress by playing with the mark, even though she had learned with Miranda how very fun it could be. It would have been... unkind. This did not stop her from, now and then, sending a warm thought or two along that spare, precious line.

It was the fact that there was an answer, every time, that was the most fun.

Amused with herself, eyes umbered even darker with satisfaction gazed back at her and she nodded. Shower, get dressed, pretend her days were ordinary and go out and learn something new; that was what she needed to do.

She grinned at herself. Andrea knew she could be a kept woman and that wouldn't hurt at all. However, she had a job and it was one she enjoyed. Once she had felt better, she had been able to rework her original article into something worthy of print and had sent that off. The New York Mirror might not pay a lot, but it was hers, and it gave her room to freelance. She could always find something to occupy herself.

She hummed as she showered, and that hum turned into a smile, as she briefly remembered Emily's astonishment when she'd strolled in on that second day. Andrea had looked good, but totally different from her normal classic choices. Her make up had been extravagant, glittering. Her hair had been upswept chaos, off setting the stiff, pointed lines of the forest green pin-striped in gold silk suit. The suit had an open cut from the breasts on down that showed off her belly button, but covered almost everything else. Mostly. There had been no accompanying blouse nor bra. Andrea wore matching pointed stilettos so high that she towered over her former co-worker, and her feet had ached for a day after as punishment for the unaccustomed abuse. Bold multi-hooped earrings, also gold, dripped from her ears in loops, while each of her fingers, had been be-ringed in sculpted complimentary emerald stone and gold bands. The gold tiger-striped with green lines cape had been the clincher. Emily had done a double-take, then tilted her head in a well-earned acknowledgment.

Miranda had eaten Andy for lunch. Only the cape, the jewelry and the heels survived. Poor suit.

She was grateful that Emily hadn't brought it up, after. She was more grateful that she had remembered her commitment to have a secondary set of clothes to wear handy. She had come to the firm conclusion that foresight counted if one was going to be with Miranda. Meanwhile, who knew outrageous could be so delightful? She had felt shameless and provocative; sexy. It wasn't a feeling she normally associated with "work." However, she did like the sensation. Andrea had vowed to try it again sometime, but not as an everyday thing. She was still a classics kind of gal.

Despite Emily's fear, Miranda had never intended for Andy to come back to Runway. At least, not as an employee. The editor had multiple purposes for everything she did. It wasn't just that she wanted to shore up the bond, she had been serious about Andrea learning to see in new ways. Andrea's stay at Runway had really only been a matter of what was left of the work week and then she had to go back to her own job anyway. Afterwards, she visited as often as she wanted. That couch was a boon, but even Andy realized she should not be there all the time. It would simply be too distracting for Miranda.

Shower completed, make up applied and lacy underthings on, Andrea strolled into their room. Their room. That still amazed her. The room, save for the rumpled bed, her lap-top, and a short stack of books and papers, still felt mostly like Miranda. Andrea didn't begrudge that at all. She loved the way Miranda felt; couldn't get enough of it, in fact.

She turned as the door opened, reaching for the closest thing handy to cover herself.

She needn't have bothered. Miranda closed the door behind her and locked it, then looked at Andy with a predator's gleam in her eye.

"Work can wait."

-TDWP-

Later that night, Andrea's cell phone refused to stop ringing. It had gone to message at least twice. Andrea was in the shower recovering from her work day. The only reason Miranda hadn't joined her was that she still had the Book to examine and slowing time would mean time spent just that much longer without Andrea. Miranda stared at the phone as if by the power of glare alone it would stop. Then, with a sigh, she set the Book aside and went to the side of the bed where Andrea normally slept and peered at the display.

It was not a number she was familiar with nor listed under any of Andrea's shorthand address book entries.

She could just turn the phone off, she supposed, but then she would wonder.

She sat down on the bed, deciding to give it a minute to see if the annoying caller tried again. If it was a business stunt, she would tear the caller into wee, tiny shreds with verbal efficiency. If it were important...

It rang.

"As this is the fifth time this phone has gone off, it must be very important. Who is this?" Miranda's voice was crisp, stern. The silence on the other end pressed. "If you aren't going to answer, then I shall hang up, block and delete the number."

"Is... Is Andy there?" The voice was shaken, slightly weepy and soft. "I was hoping. I need to talk to her."

"Andrea is currently unavailable. Who may I say called?"

Miranda heard a sniffle. "Lily. Could you tell her Lily called?"

The Dragon considered and decided to lay it out. "Ah. Her so called friend. I recall your name, in association with another. Andrea was very hurt."

"I... We..."

"Andrea is mine." The words hung like a dare, but the woman on the other end of the phone did not pick it up. Miranda continued, placing careful emphasis on the major points. She wanted to be very clear about this. "I protect what is mine. It is my first inclination to follow through on my previous plan. However, I know she still retains affection for you. For whatever reason." She did not hide her personal disdain, but she did follow through with the niceties. "That said, I shall let her know you called. Can you be reached at this number?"

"Yes."

Miranda hung up and stared at the phone in her hand, tempted beyond all reason and wanting to protect Andrea from any more possible hurt. She then set the phone, untampered with, upon the bedstand.

-TDWP-

"I just can't go back..." Lily whispered. "I can't."

Andrea pressed her thumbnail against her chin until it was painful and looked sideways at Miranda, who cocked a brow at her. She had no idea if this would fly at all. But she said it anyway, wincing slightly at the possibility of the discussion after. "Come here. You'll catch the first flight out. I'll make arrangements. Roy will pick you up. Don't pack anything. We'll get you clothes when you get here. You'll stay in one of the guest rooms."

"Andy..."

"Don't argue. Just do. Keep your phone with you. I'll call you with directions."

When she hung up, expecting to have to explain, Miranda's only question was, "Are you sure about this?"

Andrea's lips compressed and she shrugged. It was painful to answer, because her first impulse had been to say no. This, however, was something she needed to do. Lily had been her friend since they were tiny. "It's what friends do. If they can."

Miranda touched her cheek, leaned forward, and kissed her. "Then it will be done."

-TDWP-

She felt a sharp tingle along the edge of her left ear, then heard the ring of the phone. Andrea started at the sound, which was still in her hand. She hadn't even begun the billion calls that needed doing. She glanced at Miranda who merely arched a brow. She didn't have to look at the phone. She had given that specific number a very special ringtone. Now it made her shiver at the timing. She answered, feeling somewhat disbelieving, but needing to make that connection. She understood it for the first time.

"What is wrong?" Cruella demanded, without any social preamble. Concern sharpened her voice, made it nearly strident. Andrea could practically feel alarmed sparks through the phone.

The answer wasn't really all that convoluted, but the strangeness of the moment made Andrea tongue-tied for a few short seconds. "I... My..." She finally said, wanting to reassure the woman on the other end before her inability to be coherent made the Dragon on the other end any more frantic, "It's okay. I'm okay. No one is dead or dying." The important stuff out of the way, Andrea deflated a little, slumping back against the headboard of her bed and closed her eyes. She felt Miranda's hand on her thigh, and reached to clasp it. "It's just a really bad things happening to a friend crisis. She's coming here. Where it's safe."

She could practically feel eyebrows narrowing all around her. "Andy." Her name slid over her like a caress. No one said Andrea like Miranda did. No one said Andy like Cruella did. She could hear the chiding and the affection in Cruella's voice. They had been talking every day since that freak early season blizzard. At first the fashionista or she had invented reasons to make those calls, and then, one day, it simply wasn't necessary. Their conversations had grown deeper and more interesting as the weeks passed. They hadn't missed a day and the familiarity they'd gained from it meant Andrea could practically read the other woman's body language through the phone. "Your friend."

"Lily." This time it was the designer's turn to be silent and Andrea tried to ride out the wave, but couldn't. She had told Cruella the story, had shared that heartbreak over a coffee and the safety of distance. "I've known her forever, I can't... I can't let this one tiny thing that happened before stand between us when the crunch comes."

"She was there when your crunch came?" Misery crowded in her stomach and Andrea did not answer. Cruella's voice gentled. "Yet, you would drop everything for her."

Andrea started to answer. "I... It's..."

"It's not a question, Andy. I am speaking of a trait, something intrinsic to you." Cruella paused. Then she said, even more gently and with a slight pop to it, as if she were surprised that she were even asking, "Do you need me to be there?" The words were rushed, but sincere, as if Cruella were already plotting the means and ways.

The yes was on the tip of Andrea's tongue and desperately wanted to slide out. She bit it back. "You have the London Kennel Club Winter's Cup to attend. It's only a few days away. You have to be there. You must. It's your first one." She said it firmly, making herself believe it. Knowing it was true. She could not sacrifice Cruella on the altar of 'I want.'

"I'm not a judge, Andy. I don't have to be there."

"But you're a famous face who has agreed to go. They want you there..."

"Ah, yes, to take advantage of my bad reputation and bring in the audience. I've already planned on wearing plastic over everything... " It was a shared joke of planning ahead for the worst. Perhaps not much of good joke...

"... And this is the final run for London before the Westminster."

"Yes, that is also in your small town of New York."

"So. See. You already said you would come. So, we'll see each other then. If not at a different time..." They had not ever discussed the Ball or the Dragon thing, really, and Andrea still wasn't sure how to bring any of it up. "And by then... the crisis will be over and we can just have a good time and there are things that need to be cleared up because, I want you to meet ... everyone..." Some more specifically than others.

"Andy." Once again that gentle slide of her name, a caress. When had that become as important as breathing? She still hadn't let go of Miranda's hand. Hadn't opened her eyes. She was mindful of the Hatfield and McCoy thing. Had no idea how to even begin addressing any of it.

"I will, for your sake, withhold judgement. But I know this, if she hurts you, this Dragon does bite," Cruella spoke sternly.

For some reason, that made Andrea smile.

-TDWP-

Andrea was very aware that she needed to know some ground rules; that there had to be a few related to visitors at the Priestly abode in previous times. It was one thing to walk around with Serena at Runway and make awesome discoveries or to pan her vision around the city of New York and discover that some homeless people weren't really homeless. Or human. It was quite another to invite someone into Miranda's... no, their home.

She waited until Miranda was finished with the Book. For some reason, her Dragon liked her around, even when she's was being a noisy, busy person. Andrea had offered to take herself down to the study where she wouldn't be a bother while she managed all those details that needed detailing. She had even tried to be logical about it. "Technically, one is not supposed to do one's work in the bedroom. They list it out as one of the things you're supposed to do to avoid insomnia."

Miranda had squashed that idea with a flick of her eyebrow. "That assumes one intends to sleep."

Andrea had thought she was going to combust via the power of innuendo, but managed to drag her focus back to something useful.

She still attempted to work quietly, keeping her voice low and firm while on the phone or typing as quietly as she could while she searched for quickest routes. She paid for it out of her own pocket, sparing nothing. The bank account took a hit, but she wasn't paying rent any more and Miranda wouldn't let her split any of the bills. When Andrea had brought up the topic, Miranda had looked at Andrea like she was crazy, and declared, "Nonsense, it's already paid for, why would you need to do such a thing," and that was the end of that particular discussion.

Of course, Andrea finished what she was doing before Miranda, at least as far as Lily was concerned. She started pulling together her research on her next article, just to pass the time. The journalist got so caught up in it, that it wasn't until she felt movement on the bed that she realized that things had changed. She looked up from what she was doing to see her lover casually sitting beside her reading a new book, feet bare, comfy robe on and probably nothing on underneath.

Andrea felt a pleasant warmth in her belly. It wasn't as if her Dragon hadn't made her intentions quite plain.

They still had to talk though.

"Miranda?"

The silver-haired woman brought her attention to Andrea. "Mmm," she hummed, receptively.

"I have a...," Andrea thought about how to phrase it. "... House question."

Miranda saved her place, closed the book and waited.

"Okay. Lily is going to be here. Maybe for a few days. She's got some decision-making to do, because I don't know if she'll want to stay in New York or head someplace else or what." Andrea shrugged. "So long as she doesn't go back to that guy." The brunette cleared her throat. "Anyhow, she'll be here and I know you probably have protocols for that kind of thing. Not that you all go around being Dragon-ish or whatever, but...

"Okay, here's the thing. We were friends. And... if things go well, we'll be friends. Which, I don't think is necessarily a bad thing. Although, you know, things are definitely changed."

"My Lady, are you going anywhere with this?"

Andrea, who had started fidgeting, stopped and looked directly at Miranda. "If the topic should come up and not saying it will, but if... I think I could trust her with this. She's always been pretty open minded. But."

Miranda's eyebrow cocked and Andrea got the sense that her Dragon was thinking of many other ways they could be using the time. It nearly derailed the train of thought. Except this was important.

"Is it okay if I tell Lily?"

"Ah. The point at last."

Only the tone of voice told Andrea that Miranda was teasing.

"Well?"

"Dragons may cast forgetfulness should the need arise. Dragon's Lady may have trusted minions of her own."

Andrea brought her hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle of the thought of Lily as a minion. And then the thought of what Lily might think of being thought of as a minion. But she understood what Miranda was telling her.

Her shoulders settled a little and she cleared her throat, "Well, and there's another thing. Also a kind of House matter, I think, but maybe it's more of a Dragon matter. Or just a ... thing I was thinking about and... "

"Andrea..."

"It's really just something I'd like to have you think about. Christmas is coming."

"I am aware."

"You heard my call before? With Cruella."

"Yes."

"I was wondering, given that there are ... issues... between you and House De Vil, if you could, maybe, set that aside. You know. For the holidays." Andy finally finished, then hurried on to explain. "It's just... Cruella is going to be in New York for a few days, and I'd really like the opportunity to get to know her in person, not just over the phone." Andrea did not bother specifying the dates. She figured Miranda was well aware of them, given the Ball.

Miranda looked away from the serious expression of her mate and tried to focus on something besides the noise that had arisen in her head. "It is not an easy thing you're asking me to do, Andrea."

"It's not easy to ask. I didn't plan on... I had no idea..."

Miranda took her hand, still without looking at Andrea. Somehow she just knew where it was. She exhaled and a rueful expression slid swiftly across her face. She turned her attention back to her mate. "I can not set aside my issues with House De Vil. Too much damage was done for me to do that." She squeezed Andrea's hand before she could deflate completely. "But I can and will make an exception for your... friend."

Andrea nodded her head. "Okay," came out in a whisper of hopeful acceptance. Then she said, a little more strongly, "Thank you."

Miranda tilted her head regally, like a queen having granted a boon; which, Andrea supposed, had been the case.

"I need a moment to think, Andrea. Would you turn out the lights?"

Somberly, Andrea stood up. She turned off and put away her laptop. Then she went around turning off the lights and settled back on the bed. While she had been about that task, Miranda had stripped out of the robe and slipped under the covers. Andrea climbed into bed too, stripping off the socks she'd used to keep her feet warm and leaving her PJs on.

She wanted to ask so many questions, but couldn't bring herself to do it now. She turned to face her side of the bed.

She resigned herself to the idea that perhaps she might have pushed things a little, committed to giving Miranda her space and ignored the warm throb that had been between her legs since the older woman had flirted with her.

She closed her eyes, trying to think thoughts more conducive to sleep, found herself worrying instead.

Then a warm arm slid over her side and she was pulled back gently. She clasped that arm to her, holding the hug. Miranda's leg slid between hers. The older woman nuzzled her softly. "It will be alright, my Andrea."

And for awhile, they just held each other and it was.

-TDWP-

Lily arrived in the late morning. Andrea felt weird about the whole thing, but had decided to buck up and go to the airport. They might not have talked to each other for over a year and a half, but she was the one who knew what her friend looked like.

The ride gave her time to think. She watched the skyline, thinking, not for the first time that New York had a great beauty to it. By the time they arrived at the airport she was feeling more serene and less shaken by the prospect of meeting Lily.

Roy dropped her off and then joined the slow moving herd of vehicles circling the lot waiting for their passengers. Andrea had his number if it was going to be longer, but so far, all indications were that Lily was going to be on time.

Andrea checked her notes, checked time, and searched for the gate. Once there, she found a place to sit. Then didn't. She found a place to stand and was too nervous to just stand. So she paced and hoped she didn't look like a nut job.

Roy's vaunted skill at timeliness, perhaps helped by his elven skills, spared Andrea an eternity of walking back and forth in the waiting area. Andrea paused her perpetual motion when the plane exit finally had some activity. Suddenly she felt rooted to the ground, the nervousness replaced with a horrible anxiousness.

Lily was not, thank every divine being, dead last. Andrea spotted her in the crowd, hair much shorter, but height and weight and profile the same, and experienced a palpable relief. She had realized that she'd been half afraid that Lily wouldn't come.

The other young woman glanced around the waiting area, brown eyes looking a little lost. Andrea lifted her hand. "Lily! Over here!"

The first hug was quick, but genuine. Andrea did not say, "How are you?" Lily did not explain anything just yet. It wasn't until she stepped back that Andrea noticed the darker discoloration that marked the light chocolate skin. The bruise covered cheek and eye and was barely hidden by make up. She hissed in an angry breath. "He didn't!"

Lily might have made choices, but she never lied to Andy. In this case, though, she couldn't really find the words. Andrea lightly hovered her fingers over the bruise. Then she dropped her hand and clenched her fist. "What happened?"

"He thought I was cheating."

Andrea felt a cold stone drop in her belly. "Did you?"

"No. Never. I mean... I started having to spend late nights at the gallery and this last artist was so demanding. It just went wrong so quickly..."

Andrea closed her eyes, trembling a little. Angry in ways that made her see sparks behind her eyelids. She took a deep breath, trying to bring her normal cool back online. She forced herself to meet Lily's eyes, and remembered, for a moment, the empathy she felt for her friend's pain.

So, when she did speak, it was to clear the air a little and make room for something better. She wanted Lily to know she understood. Some of it. "If it makes you feel any better. Neither did I. Not once."

That did it. Lily broke into a sob and looked like she was about to crash. Andrea caught her and held onto her friend. "Come on," she said. "Let's get out of here. We've got some catching up to do."

-TDWP-

Any other time in her life, Lily might have been - if not in awe - about the townhouse, in deep respect. As it was, she hardly noticed. She talked during the ride home and Andrea listened. By the time they arrived home, Lily was wrung out and tired. The journalist got her friend situated, offered food that was denied, and then left her sleeping in the chosen guest bedroom.

She realized that in many ways she had been worried over nothing. She had been afraid that Lily would demand answers that she wasn't sure she could give or didn't feel the need to justify. But her artist friend had too many things occupying her mind.

Andrea escaped to the emptiness of the kitchen, where she got something to drink from the 'fridge, and took up a place on one of the barstools. As she drank her juice, she thought and as she thought, she realized how very fortunate she had become over the last few weeks. With a sigh, she thrust back the urge to make indulgent phone calls and decided that whatever the current circumstances, Andrea had gotten very lucky.

-TDWP-

Lily, who was not a normally reserved person at all, eventually gathered herself together and went looking for her friend. She found Andrea in the family room, chattering animatedly with two red-headed girls. A video game console was visible at the front of a humongous LCD Screen. The TV was off. The girls each had notebooks and textbooks scattered around them. Andrea was on the couch, rattling off one of the myriad facts that she somehow always knew.

They knew she was there, Lily realized, as she stood at the doorway. The girls had flicked a glance her way and Andrea had always seemed to know when Lily was around before. They weren't ignoring her. They were giving her space, waiting for her to take the first step. They were behaving normally.

She desperately needed normal. It had been so very weird over the last few weeks.

At a lull, she coughed delicately. A pause hung in the air. The Andrea uncurled from her comfortable position and stood with a smile. "Heya Lily. Come meet Caroline and Cassidy. They've been wanting to meet you since I told them about the ice-cream incident."

Lily grinned. "That was not my fault."

"So you claim. But I distinctly remember that I was on the other side of the room."

"No. I was. You were in the middle."

Something warm and familiar settled in the artist, something forgotten and now remembered. Andrea had always been her friend. It felt normal, warm and welcoming.

-TDWP-

Miranda arrived home to a house that smelled like Italian. She paused a moment scanning her domain, checking her senses, before putting away her belongings. It seemed peaceful enough.

She arrived to a kitchen filled with activity. She'd expected to see Cara and the girls tonight and had thought perhaps Andrea would want time alone with her friend. But her sense of Andrea, once past that short and startling burst of anger earlier that morning, had been that she was home. Thus, she was not exactly surprised to see more people in her kitchen than usual.

She paused to take it in. Cara at the stove, stirring a red sauce and monitoring noodles. The girls in their seats at the breakfast bar, glasses half full. Andrea on one side, holding a soft garlic breadstick; waving it as she made some point. Lily on the opposite side, dicing some ingredient and barking a laugh.

It was a cheery scene. One she wanted to navigate carefully without ruffling any one's feelings, too much. She could use the positivity after today.

She might as well have stepped right in. Andrea paused mid-sentence, breadstick dangling in her fist, and smile crossing her face in lush fullness. Lily finished a chop and turned to see what caught Andrea's attention. The girls shouted "Mom!" in sync and scrambled off their chairs to be the first to reach her. The only one who didn't react was the ever unflappable Cara; which was one of the reasons she'd hired her.

Miranda stooped to grab her girls, wrapping an arm around each of them and planting a kiss on their foreheads. "And was it a good day today?"

"School was okay," Caroline said.

"After school has been much better. Did you know Lily was an artist?" Cassidy inquired. They loosened their hold and started back to where they'd been seated.

"I was so informed, yes." Miranda stepped further into the kitchen, making her way towards Andrea.

"She promised to draw us tomorrow."

"Caricature," the brunette explained as she set aside the doughy tool of emphasis. "She's always been very good at that." She moved towards Miranda, meeting her somewhere close to halfway. They embraced in full and the kiss, while short, was complete.

"And your day?"

Andrea leaned back, without fully detaching from the clasp. "Come meet Lily. I'd like to introduce you to my friend."

Miranda could have put on her 'work' face, but opted instead for simple neutrality. She let herself be led closer, until she was facing the young woman. Her intention had been to maintain that neutrality, until she truly registered the wound. Her eyes narrowed and she glanced at Andrea, who finished the introductions. "... And this is my Miranda."

"Lily Goodwin." The older woman nodded an acknowledgment, covering for her momentary lapse. "I recall your series on wildflowers. The colors were quite vibrant."

The young woman looked a little gobsmacked, but valiantly recovered. "You've seen my work."

"I try to take in the arts when I can. Staying tuned in keeps Runway fresh."

"Right. Of course. It would." Lily trailed off. She looked at the knife she was holding in her hand, angled rather unfortunately. She turned and dropped it on the counter before returning her attention to her friend and her new acquaintance. "I've read the magazine. It's fantastic. Have heard a lot about you." Lily's voice dropped off to a near whisper and she blushed a little. She chanced a glance at Andrea as Miranda merely hummed in reply.

"So. Obviously," the brunette stepped in, "We're making dinner. Would you like something to drink, Miranda?"

It was Miranda's opinion that the moment practically demanded it. "Yes."

-TDWP-

Lily sat on the guest bed, cross-legged. Andrea sat across from her on the edge of the bed, legs dangling off the side. They had talked, slowly rounding back and through the past year, catching up in slow motion. They caught up with stories, as they always had, interspersing questions and thoughts along the way.

Lily couldn't ignore the parallels. The last few weeks with her latest failed relationship had drawn the outlines in stark relief. She wasn't quite ready to apologize, just to share what had happened and see it.

Andrea never said a word about the way their experiences reflected after that first comment in the airport. She offered no accusations, no 'where were you's' and, probably most importantly, no 'now you see's'. She just listened.

Their conversation wound its way to more current things, and now Lily had to say it. "So. You and ... Miranda." She was still getting used to the idea that not only could the Dragon Lady smile, she could do so in genuine ways.

"Yeah." The sigh of happiness that followed should have been more annoying, but it was actually oddly reassuring. "Can you believe it?"

"Well, if you'd asked me yesterday..." She still shivered at the memory of the phone call. "Yeah. Maybe I can." She reached over and grabbed Andrea's hand, needing the contact. "Hey. Andy."

"Yeah, Lily?"

"I'm sorry. For the things I said. Did. I... should have called. You know. At least to check up on you."

Andrea's look was long and considering. "We were all in different places then, Lily. I don't know that any of us would have made different choices. Well, maybe, if I could have changed something, I wouldn't have thrown my phone in the fountain in Paris, when I quit Runway, but I was kind of mad."

They were talking about two different things and Lily knew it. The answer was still true though. "Yeah. Well. You had a right to be."

-TDWP-

"You're taking this much better than I thought you would."

"I suppose I could have showed her my teeth and threatened her, but then I reminded myself she did bring beauty to the world and she is your friend."

"Ha."

"You were right to bring her home and offer sanctuary. Things would have escalated for her if she had stayed. It always does."

Andrea nodded soberly. Then she said, "I have another question for you."

"Yes?"

"Is there some sort of, I don't know, manual. A book of nifty tips for wanna-be mages or ten things not to do near a Dragon."

"You might take a moment to investigate the study shelves a little more closely tomorrow, Andrea. I know you scanned the shelves in days past, but..." Miranda tapped just under her eye.

The hint was enough. "Oh! Well." Andrea cocked her head. "I don't think I'd have ever thought of that."

"Dragons like to hide some of their treasures. It makes finding them that much more enjoyable."

Andrea pondered that, then said, arching her brows in hammy suggestiveness, "Wanna play find the treasure now?"

Miranda's growl thrilled through the younger woman. "Yes."

-TDWP-

Lily found her friend in the study. The young woman was curled in a chair, leg over armrest and big book in her lap. "Whatcha reading?" Rather than verbally answer, Andrea pulled the book up so the cover was visible. Some of the title striping was fading, but Lily caught the gist. "A book on mechanics. Andy, you don't even have a car."

"Research," the journalist said. "I'll be reading a lot of not my usual stuff over the next few days." She closed the book. "That said, I think I've had my fill of diagrams." She spoke the truth. She had been studying some very interesting and confusing images and was ready for a break.

Lily smiled. "So, you promised me clothes."

"Weird. I have no idea why I would have done that."

"Want to go shopping."

Andrea grinned back, "If you insist. But I get to choose at least one outfit."

"Are you kidding? I'm relying on your expertise. You're the one living with a fashion queen." Lily's eyes widened. "I still can't believe that closet."

"I know!" Andrea grinned and she unfurled from her seat. "And I have my own little corner in it now. She hasn't thrown out anything of mine. Well, except that one t-shirt, but I had to give her that. It was ancient of days."

"Ah, sharing a closet. It's a beautiful thing," Lily commented as they headed towards the door.

Andrea paused, offering a quiet smile. Then it turned into quite a devilish little grin when she thought of other things 'shared' in their closets. "Yeah. It really is."

-TDWP-

Things settled and healed over the week. Lily began searching for a local job, one that could use her expertise and found welcome at her old gallery. She slid back in at a higher position with better pay, but otherwise, it was as if she'd never left.

She enjoyed her time in the Priestly household, growing more comfortable daily. She was getting used to the idea that the public persona of La Priestly was vastly different than the personal and yet, that sense of authority and power was still there. She began to understand what Andrea saw in Miranda. More, she understood that the relationship between her friend and the editor was more equal than not; that the torturous dynamic of lackey to tyrant was long gone and replaced with something untamed, but sweet and strong.

She and her childhood pal didn't talk much about the escalation of their previous relationship to one of a threesome. Lily was aware that perhaps her original beliefs about the fallout during Andy's time of employment had really been more about the justification for her own choices. She had grown accustomed to having Nate to herself as Andrea's time was taken up more and more by demands she could not control. She also had come to acknowledge a certain amount of anger at the sense of abandonment by her friend too. Sure, it was a conflicting set of emotions, but that was part of why she'd gotten so mad. She hated feeling that way and it was so much easier to blame Andy, than to redirect the attention back at herself.

It came out in her artwork though, until she had to face the truth.

She left Nate in Boston, found a job on the west coast. It was good for awhile. Then it was really, really good for awhile. Then everything went bad, bad, bad.

She had thought of calling Andy on more than one occasion. It just never felt right. Then desperation and fate had made the final push.

Lily had no idea how she was going to make it up to Andy. She had no idea if she even could. She was going to try, however. If she was going to have her friend back, she wanted one who trusted her; like she now trusted Andy.

-TDWP-

Everyone knew better than to disturb Miranda when she paced in her office. Pacing meant big decisions were being made, lives might be made or destroyed, jobs created or fashion license revoked. Appeasing the editor if one interrupted that process was an impossible task and it was definitely not a time to bring coffee or offer up one's neck in submission. It was, however, a time for being being as unobtrusive as possible. If one was first assistant, one fled to the art department. If one was second assistant, one waited while trying not to breathe much.

Miranda had been pacing since her arrival that morning. Every now and then, she would stop and glare at something unseen, then start pacing again. Once in a while, she would bark out orders in quickfire succession. Some appointments were canceled, some attended. Getting out of the office did not help. Miranda would just come back and start walking back and forth; back and forth.

Marie nearly swallowed her tongue in relief when she saw Andrea step out of the elevator. They spoke through eye contact, convey many confusing messages that all ended up with Maria practically eye-shouting 'Please, do something!'

Andrea paused outside the door of the office, considering. Even she was loathe to approach when the Dragon was in this inexplicable mood. On the other hand, she had brought lunch. Still, she didn't want to just barge in.

So she waited, at first trying to think of the best way to get in, and then getting lost in watching Miranda. It was, she realized, not something she'd ever indulged in previous times like these. It struck her how purely feral Miranda looked; like a tiger prowling the cage, only with a focus that was inward rather than raging outward at some hapless viewer. There was a power and a grace to the movement, fierce and natural. Sensual.

Unconsciously, Andrea licked her lips and stepped fully into the office and eased the door closed behind her.

Miranda instantly stopped pacing and whirled, turning and ready to destroy whoever had entered her domain. Her instinctive rage however faltered, and shifted into an entirely new direction, when confronted by the sight and scent her excited mate.

The door snicked shut, Andrea's eyes never left Miranda's as her hands busied with the lock. The brunette's full lips turned up in a hungry smile. If she had still been the silver-haired editor's assistant, she might have wondered what was troubling her boss. She might have tried to think of some unobtrusive, and hopefully unnoticeable, way to calm her.

But Andrea didn't want Miranda calm. She wanted her just the way she was right at that moment. The younger woman stalked forward and at some point the Dragon shook off the temporary paralysis to meet her. She reached out and grabbed Andrea by the shirt, yanking her forward. Their lips crashed together, in rough tune, hot and bruising. Miranda's hands freed the shirt as soon as Andrea's arms went around her and she grasped the younger woman's head between them. The claiming kiss only deepened, sweetening until Andrea was forced to pull back just to breathe.

She stared at her mate, slightly glazed and rapturous. Everything in her throbbed with need. Even so, she knew they needed privacy.

She had been practicing, trying and perfecting many tiny magical gestures with the help of the twins and Serena. She had learned from several sources, including Miranda. And now she had a chance to try one she had come to love. The sound proofing sigil lit up behind Miranda, then faded. Her Dragon nuzzled at the "v" of Andrea's slim neck and shoulder. It was terribly hard to concentrate, but the young woman smiled in triumph at the success. That smile only lured Miranda back to kiss-reddened lips and the delicious plundering began again.

Andrea brought her hands to the front and down and pulled at the hem of Miranda's blouse. She wanted to feel her lover's heated skin, to float her fingertips along the sensitive underside of luscious breasts. Miranda was delightfully reciprocal, even though no words had been spoken between them yet; only panted urgent gasps and hungry moans.

Miranda pressed her, moved her across the floor in a near dance. Their clothes began falling to the floor, a piece at time. It wasn't until she felt Miranda release her just a little bit and sensed more than saw the bit of magic suddenly flared around her. Giddiness trembled through her as Miranda lifted her in a marvelous and surprising act of strength, before settled her onto the cool surface of the now cleared glass surface of Miranda's desk.

Andrea's legs were already parted. They merely opened more, butterflying receptively, as Miranda pressed against her and leaned. Silver hair brushed against sensitized skin the Dragon kissed Andrea from collarbone to breast. She arched at the contact as she felt fingertips slide between her legs, and she gasped at Miranda began to stir the point in order to summon the fire. Light was already dancing between them, skipping across from skin to skin.

Andrea had no choice but to cling. Her fingertips dug into Miranda's shoulder blades as her body rocked in total receptivity. The touch changed, slid deeper, until Miranda was plunging into Andrea, knuckling in and searching. The Dragon ground her hips in time with her Lady, and her lips trailed fire. Andrea needed to touch, needed to feel the wetness of her lover. She forced herself to reach down, and found what she sought. Her fingertips strummed, stirred to the tempo her lover established.

They moved this way, until Miranda whispered the brunette's name, drew it out like a song, whispered it like a prayer. The younger woman cried out, calling to Miranda. She shattered into liquid fireworks that sparked throughout the room and through the silver-haired woman. The Dragon threw her head back and roared, full-throated and powerful enough to rattle the windows, as she too was cast into the deep. Pleasure cascaded through them, scored through them in wave after wave, until the current finally settled and gentled.

Andrea brought her forehead to Miranda's. She was still breathing heavily, wondering at the power of the moment and heart brimming with the love she felt. She waited, until she could feel Miranda relax, felt the warm space within her sigh with contentment. "Better?"

"Yes," Miranda answered huskily.

"Is there anything I can do?"

The dragon caught her in another kiss, this one much gentler than previously. "Yes. I may need a phone number from your cell."

Andrea smiled into the kiss, her expression thoughtful, but light. "As you wish, my Dragon."

-TDWP-

The brunette could not suppress her smile as she knelt and gathered up the strewn documents that had been magically shoved to the floor. She felt satiated and well loved and maybe a little cocky. Miranda was taking advantage of her executive bathroom to do some quick ablutions. Andrea was still nude and did eventually plan on getting dressed, but she thought while she waited she might as well make herself useful. After all, it was kind of her fault that all that paperwork was on the floor.

Gathering the documents gave her a warm sense of, not quite déjà vu , but the sense of well worn paths. Her assistant days were far behind now, but she did miss it in some ways. They were, she was shocked to realize, simpler times.

Not that she would give up the now she had for anything. She purred at the thought that Miranda was hers, and she, having been most thoroughly claimed by her lover, felt another warm flush of desire. She wasn't sure she'd ever get enough of her mate and that caused an ache of gladness in her heart.

Papers. She needed to focus. So she began pulling things together and un-randomizing the documents.

She heard a hum of appreciation behind her, and grinned, despite herself.

"If I had known how delightful it would be to see you working sans clothes, I should have demanded it."

Andrea had already created neat stacks on Miranda's desk, and was in the process of grabbing a manila envelope and the sundry contents that had spilled without quite looking at them. She angled her head up and received a much too fleeting, but tender hungry kiss from the editor. "It was just efficiency on your part. There might have been rug burns."

"Tragedy averted."

Andrea grinned, enjoying the sparkle in Miranda's blue eyes. Then, because it was necessary to the whole organizing effort she looked down at what she held in her hands. The journalist did a double-take.

"Are you doing your own research into Roger Dearly?" She asked.

Miranda gaze sharpened in alertness. "No, I am not. Why would you ask?"

Andy held the folder up. "You've got his picture here."

"Beg pardon?"

Andrea stood up, unfolding from her kneeling position in one limber movement. She set the manila envelope and its other content aside on the desk, and then gave the photo to Miranda. She then pointed at the male in the picture. "That," she said with slow emphasis, "is Roger Dearly."

"The game creator?" Miranda's gaze narrowed when Andrea nodded and her lips pursed dangerously. "I had no idea." She glanced at the blond woman standing beside him. She then looked at Andrea. "I received this as part of an evaluation package from Nelson. You may recall the conversation."

Andrea looked blankly at the editor. Miranda's expression eased into an indulgent smile. She touched the journalist's face with the palm of her hand, gently stroking Andrea's cheek with her thumb. "Then again, perhaps not. You were not feeling well that day."

"I vaguely recall something about my phone ringing and then Roy showed up..."

"Hmm. It was fortuitous, was it not?" Miranda dropped her hand and then retrieved the folder. "Nelson Gabriel was out of the country, and trying to reach me. However, the only number his assistant had was yours. Since you apparently did not have the ability to forward on your cell, you bridged the call instead. He wanted my evaluation on a potential fashion designer, who is also in the photo. Nelson asked me to review her work and perhaps make a recommendation as to her placement. Anita... Anita..." She lifted the card. "Yes, Mm. There it is, Anita Dearly."

Andrea hissed in a breath. "Bad news."

Miranda was still studying the subject, pulling out the sheets that Andrea had replaced in the envelope. "Roger is yes, but I do try not to blame the spouse. However, I would have to warn Nelson of a negative impact."

"No," Andrea said firmly. "I don't mean Roger. Though, now I'm wondering if he's really the bad guy in the picture." She thought of her friends, how one conversation could change the opinion or alter whole futures. "Does it say where Anita used to work?"

Miranda's whole body went utterly still. She whispered, without looking at the info card, "House of De Vil."

"Cruella told me of an employee, who, before the game came out, started drawing everything with spots. Everything. But she was a great artist, and for awhile, Cruella could get her to refocus and design for the current season..."

Miranda set the package down, her attention on Andrea with laser-like intensity. "Go on."

"Well, apparently, she drew a spectacular fur design, which Cruella really liked, but when she suggested some minor alterations, the employee started making accusations about her goals and how Cruella might acquire spotted fur. It involved dogs. Or to be more precise, puppies."

Miranda closed her eyes briefly. Her jaw clenched, but she forced it to relax. "Continue."

"It escalated. The employee had to be forcibly removed from the building by security."

"Vowing revenge, no doubt."

"I don't know about that part, but I am beginning to see a pattern."

Miranda laid all the items back down on the desk, including the photo. "I will have to speak with her former employer, for further details. It is unlikely that Anita shall continue at Nelson's but I will need to hear it..."

"From Cruella."

"Yes. Or her assistant, I suppose."

Andrea flicked a glance at the clock. "It's six fifteen there. She's likely to still be in her office. You want me to ring her up?"

"I just need the numbers to reach her."

She looked around for her purse, remembered it was out in the coat closet. "I might need to get dressed first."

Miranda's gaze, which had drifted, refocused and slid down Andrea's form. "A shame." This time, when Andrea blushed it was over her whole body. Miranda smiled wickedly as she observed the colorful progression. Lovely.

-TDWP-

Andrea would have stayed, but she did have work to return to. So she wrote down two numbers for Miranda and kissed her farewell. The office felt much emptier without her vibrant, yet calming presence. The editor traced the numbers on the thin sheet of paper. She had the option, at least with the work number, of simply having her assistant call Cruella's. Miranda wasn't exactly known for making those kinds of calls herself. A part of her wanted to surrender the responsibility, but she was a woman who had always been assertive and proactive. Miranda refused to let nerves get the better of her.

She picked up her cell phone rather than the office set and punched both numbers into her address book. Once done, she intended to keep them both handy, even if they were never used again. Then, decisively, she dialed the work number. This was a professional call.

She reminded herself of that over and over as the phone rang; once, twice, three times. She had no idea how her assistants could stand the waiting. Remembered once again why she had demanded two, so she would never - or at least rarely - have to wait on someone else's option to pick up. The fourth ring went halfway through, before being abruptly picked up. "H-house of De Vil Fashions. Cruella DeVil's office. H-how may I assist you?"

Interesting. A stutterer answering the phone. It was quirky and Miranda found herself somewhat liking the idea of it. The man must be extraordinary at his job.

Not like Andrea though. No one compared.

"This is Miranda Priestly. I need to speak with Ms. DeVil at her earliest convenience."

A gasp issued over the phone, "M-M-Miranda Priestly?" The man's voice rose.

"Is that not what I just said?" Interesting or not, inanely obvious questions irritated her.

The acerbic answer seemed to galvanize the fellow. "Oh! D-don't go away. Stay on the line. Please."

Miranda did not point out that if she had intended to hang up, she would have done so. The man's excited tones, however, left her wondering whether his urgency had to do with who she was or some possible directive. Interestingly enough, she was not put on hold, but rather heard an anxious shuffle and then the sound of a door. She smiled, feeling a little more herself as she realized that her name alone had put a new urgency in someone's step.

She picked up a pen, rubbing the painted length as if it were a set of worry beads, and was grateful for Andrea's intervention. Miranda knew that that the only reason she felt up to the conversation was that she was so much more relaxed than she had been. Even so, the editor relied on the coolness of her particular Draconic nature in cases like this. She allowed the ice to settle over her like armor. It stopped the incipient bubble of panic that wanted to well forth. Then she took on the mask of professionalism, even as her thoughts refused to settle.

This would be the first time; their first real conversation since that long ago fateful day. A part of her regretted that it was over something as mundane as an employee review. Another part was simply glad to have the excuse to even try to reach out to the other Dragon.

She probably could have spoken to the assistant. It might have been better.

But she didn't want to hear an HR employee's voice or an assistant's voice. She wanted...

Oh, how she wanted.

She tamped that long ignored impulse down hard. It simply would not do to give in at this point. She thought of the issue at hand, focusing on the seemingly innocuous picture of a couple.

She heard the sound of someone scurrying. The stamp of feet grew louder as whomever it was grew closer.

Suddenly the assistant's voice was there. "S-so sorry for the wait. I will have Cruella on the line m-momentarily. Please hold."

The phone clicked, the silence reigned. And stayed. She pulled back the cell phone and realized that they had been disconnected.

"Emily," she called, deciding that this time she was going to let an assistant do their job. Marie practically hopped into her office. The editor ordered, "I am expecting a call from House of DeVil, Fashions. If you do not receive that call, I will require you to make it to them and forward the line to me. That's all."

Her assistant, blessedly silent, scrambled back out. Miranda decided to look at the art samples that accompanied the photo while she waited. She spread them out, taking in the details. She examined ten images of women in couture, scanned and then printed. The implied textures and colors were stylish, but her gaze narrowed when she observed two images composed of simple black and white spots. They did look good, but, after Andrea's revelation, Miranda experienced them as a warning sign.

Inside, she was counting seconds.

The phone outside her office rang. Her name tripped off the assistant's tongue. Then it was the moment of truth, "Cruella DeVil on the line for you."

Miranda reached for the phone.

-TDWP-

Cruella's ire was always wonder to behold, terrible, magnificent and terrifying. She usually held tighter rein to it, but the momentary hope of speaking personally and immediately with the object of her fantasies and needs had been dashed cruelly against the rock of ineptitude. Or bad connections. It did not matter which. The thunder rolled as the doors from her office banged open. She practically levitated, arriving in as near an instant at Alonzo's desk as he'd ever witnessed.

"Get her back on the line! Get her back now!" It was a demand so primal that Alonzo literally quaked with fear. She was beyond furious. She was livid. Enraged, even. Red flames sparked in her eyes. For more than two decades, she's waited for Miranda Priestly to make contact, and now this. A disconnection or an accidental hang-up. She didn't know. She didn't CARE.

Alonzo, a nervous man under normal conditions, couldn't even begin to respond except to furiously begin searching through his folders of information for Runway or Runway related information. What scared him most were the pointy shadows that seemed to be forming along the walls, crawling up his desk. "Alonzo!"

He startled and lost the papers he'd been holding. "Use the caller ID, imbecile! That is why we have it! Try Information! Do not just stand there wasting time!"

The shadows curled around the phone, pushed the handset to him. His gaze flicked back and forth between it and Cruella. Her teeth seemed so much sharper than he remembered. Then, in a whisper he would remember for the rest of his life, she said, "Oh, please, go more slowly, Alonzo. I'll be bathing in your blood by the time you finish."

He grabbed the phone from the tendril of darkness and shivered in electrified horror when it touched him. Then, his sense of survival kicked in. He glanced at the Caller ID. It was blank, which meant a personal phone perhaps. Then, desperately, he dialed the Information service. His mind whimpered a plea and when the automated query ran, he answered as fast and as clearly as his tongue would let him. "Runway. America." The fact that he managed to speak without a stutter was a miracle he would forget as immediately as possible.

"Connecting."

He waited, trembling with sweat dripping down his back and face. The papers on his desk moved as wind began to stir around Cruella. The shadow energy, purple and pulsing, pulled back from his desk, wrapping around her like pet constrictors. Her bi-colored hair was standing straight up, waving like a live thing. She wasn't smiling at him. That was not a smile. Those eyes were orbs of hell-fire. He knew, if that call did not go through, he was as dead a dead man as ever could be.

He thought, 'Please, please, please,' and it was toss up as to whether it was a quick death he sought or the answer on the other line.

The service picked up. "Thank you for calling Runway. If you know your party's extension or name, please say it or dial it now. If not, please hold for our directory services."

He forced himself to stay bolt upright, to not bow under the pressure of relief. He had expected to run an automated gauntlet before reaching any live person. But he remembered this was a magazine that covered fashion the world over. They would have the sleekest system available. "Miranda Priestly"

One ring. They answered at one ring. He could have cried. "I have a phone call for Miranda Priestly from Cruella DeVil of the Fashion House of De Vil."

"She's been awaiting your call. I'll put you right through."

He extended the handset straight to Cruella. The wind still blew, the dark light still pulsed. But the hell fire drew back from her gaze. "I will deal with you later," she offered in ominous promise. He dreaded what that might mean, but for now he was alive. She walked away, towards her office, carrying the handset with her. She took a piece of his soul with her.

-TDWP-

'Keep it professional,' Miranda ordered herself. She felt breathless, as if she were getting ready to ride a new current. "Ms. DeVil," she said, and despite herself, her voice smoked and held the last remnant of her session with Andrea in it; So she forced a crispness to her voice. "Thank you for taking my call."

At first there was a spark of energy, a release. Then there was hesitation. Trepidation. Miranda felt it drift over the line, spill across a bonding tendril so recently frail and mostly untapped. It had grown warmer and richer since Andrea. Now it tingled, reminding her that the bond was a living thing. She felt a hint of something that she'd missed, that poked through that icy armor she'd laid down. Anger and Desperation. She tasted it, until the younger Dragon spoke.

"Please," the request was spoken so softly, she almost did not hear it. "Call me Cruella."

Miranda inhaled slowly, stopping the incipient gasp. "Cruella." The fashion house maven's first name slid off her tongue. It was softly said, curled around her tongue, unstoppable and unaccountably erotic. She wanted to say the other woman's name again, forced herself not to. "You may call me Miranda." Everyone did anyway, but this was a specific permission; an invitation of equals.

"Miranda."

The elder Dragon shivered at the tone and was suddenly afraid she might come undone. Until she was rescued.

"How may I help you, Miranda?"

She ordered her thoughts. To business. "I am calling on behalf of an associate of mine who recently took a fashion artist under wing. It is understood that she was at one time under your employ. Would you mind discussing your impressions of Anita Dearly with me?"

Miranda realized, if she'd addressed that question to anyone else, it would have been both honest query and a test to see what kind of person they were; especially given that she did have some background knowledge now. However, while she might wonder how Cruella would respond, she knew it would not ultimately matter. This was not an interview.

"Anita." Cruella's voice went flat, but not unpleasantly so. "I suppose I should be grateful that she gives someone as... influential..." Oh, that was a purr, "... as you, a good reason to call. And we must all cover our bases, yes."

Miranda's gaze narrowed, but before she could answer, Cruella continued, her voice crisping. "That was not a critique. I merely speak truth. I will also, since I have your ear to bend this very moment, add that I have looked forward to hearing your voice. Red carpet interviews on the tellie are hardly acceptable. It never gets it right; the way you sound," the words drifted off into a purr again. This time Miranda shivered and felt a surprising warmth touch her cheek.

She lifted her hand and touched it. Tears.

Truly?

She replied, "We will ... find other opportunity to talk, Cruella. There are things we need... I need and want to discuss with you."

"Is that a promise?" The words snapped out, in a hopeful exhale.

"Yes." It was as binding as any oath she'd ever made; probably more so. Heartbeats passed, as they listened to each other breathe. Then Miranda, who really did have the need to know, prodded, "Anita."

"Ah. Yes. My impression of Anita." Suddenly Cruella's voice changed, and Miranda realized she was hearing a quote, "'You're stealing puppies right now. You want all their spots. All their spots! I see the way you look at my drawings. You take them away and shred them and change them, so they all have spots! You like my spots, don't you, Ms. DeVil? Would you like to see more?"

"That is... very disconcerting."

"Oh, you speak a higher truth, Miranda. Anita has talent galore, but until she seeks help or medicates, she is not coming back through my doors."

"Would you recommend the same for another employer."

"Any recommendation that I would make will be tainted by my recent issues." Cruella admitted. "However, I would advise that if she is taken in, that she is carefully monitored. The other employer must have very good healthcare and security handy. I found them invaluable. Well, not the healthcare so much, as she would not go. But the security, that was helpful."

"I see. I shall convey concerns to my associate." Miranda paused, not wishing the call to end. "And... your recent issues, they are improved?"

"Do you ever listen when Andy talks to me?"

Miranda felt caught out. "When Andrea gives or takes a call in my presence, I inevitably hear things. However, I do not monitor her calls."

"Of course not, darling. One would hardly expect that. I am merely pointing out that you are probably more informed than most." Cruella paused, then added, finally answering the question asked and the one that was behind it. "It is better now. I have associates who are helping with that progress. I have not recently been attacked by children or PETA, which has been quite refreshing."

"Cruella..."

"None of that, Miranda. I refuse to cry in your presence, until you are present to do something about it."

"You're already crying, Cruella."

"Hush. If you don't tell me, I won't tell me."

"When is a good time to call next? That is, if I am unable to... piggy back on one of Andrea's calls."

"I'd say anytime, but that would be a tiny fib. It's very busy right now. So many things to do to get ready."

"Then I shall rely on Andrea's intuition. She seems to know."

"Yes, she does. I am very impressed... with her."

"As am I." Miranda glanced up to see the frantic face of Emily. "And, it seems my assistant has need of me. Some disaster needs averting, no doubt. Thank you, Cruella, for your time."

It was hard to say who clicked off first. The only truth was that neither really wanted to.

Miranda turned to stare at Emily. Her voice was an icicle. "Why are you darkening my doorway with your tiresome presence?"


	7. Chapter 7

TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 7

Cruella had been around animals, but only in certain circumstances. As a young girl, she enjoyed riding horses, had visited zoos and museums. She had even gone camping once or twice as part of that common ritual of growing up that everyone had. She had contemplated big game hunting, but was not enamored of the outdoors enough to spend weeks at the task.

She had never, however, been to an award function involving animals. She did not see the point. Nor did she know what to expect. Despite intentions to research the matter, time had flown by and the details of her life, which had grown infinitely more interesting than worrying about dogs and their show, had taken over. She had, however, dressed specifically for the occasion.

She had chosen red, a bright, potent pure essence of the color shaded towards cherry rather than orange, as her main theme. She had intended to wear the power suit, a crisp bolero jacket and pencil skirt that clung to her hips, to a later event, but thought it might boost her mood while she faced this new thing. The jacket's shoulders were sharp and pointed at the edge, as if she wore a soft form of armor. The cuffs ended mid-forearm. The red was lined and accentuated with midnight black; black silk low-cut blouse, which emphasized ample attributes without revealing them, shiny black belt with a silver buckle, black buttons, black and red 4 inch heels. Her earrings and the necklace shaped with sharp triangles reminiscent of animal teeth were white gold and ruby. She eschewed rings, in favor of red gloves tipped by silver claws. The final touch was the coat, a form hugging red and black long hair faux-fur that dropped all the way down to her ankles. It swished sensually with every movement and was deliciously comfortable in the winter chill. She had debated what to do with her hair, knowing that it was a signature look by color alone. She had been tempted to flatten and roll it, but opted to let it fan out for an appearance of natural wildness that complimented the look. She chose a luscious ruby lipstick and an accentuating color for her eyes, going dark with the liner. She almost did not need the color, as she had coloration that was favorable to the hue.

During the car ride she had opened and closed her cell phone in rapid clicks, telling herself that she did not need to call Andy until after the show. They already had a standing appointment for later that night. She let her mind flicker over the thought that Miranda might be there too, and her heart skipped beats. It had only been a day since their conversation and Cruella's whole reality had changed. She did not worry if Miranda would keep her promise. She worried what the "need" to talk might portend and that the other Dragon might choose to continue to deny the bond. If that was an option for Miranda, life would become excruciating for Cruella. It was already hard enough with the daily torments; flashes of eroticism that threatened to toss her over the edge completely. She held on, however, clinging to the inner strength which had helped her to build her own small empire. She was willing to deal with the pain, if it meant that she could hear the editor's voice again. That she knew all too well.

The car glided to a stop and Ben got out of the car. She did not know which Ben it was, as both drivers responded to the name and she had not been given another one to call them by. She had finally figured out which species they were and, upon that realization, had come to the conclusion that they must be very young. Either that, or midgets. Most of their kind were gargantuan and prone to staying in one place for long spans of time.

The stone giant carefully opened her door. Cruella swiveled in her seat, placed both feet on the ground, stood and began pacing towards her destination. They were early, as required, but she was impressed with the crowd that lined the street waiting to get into the stadium, and she was at a back entrance, one used for the incoming contestants and the guests of the show. She heard cheers and saw flashes of cameras, not directed at herself, but at the owners and their animals that trotted in and out of the entryway. It was odd and pleasant, so she allowed herself to take in the ambiance of it with genteel curiosity.

It was also ordered chaos when she finally entered. She heard gasps of recognition, but no one assaulted her. Since she was not the center of attention, she had freedom of movement to observe. The dogs were surprisingly well mannered, even with the excitement. The people were perhaps a little less so, as the aura of anxiety and hope permeated what Cruella immediately thought of as the dressing area. She had not ever thought she'd witness so many hair dryers and decorative accoutrement's outside of a fashion show. As she walked through the aisles, she was treated with a distant and distracted respect. It wasn't just the effect of Ben's presence. She was expected and a guest and they treated her as such. The more she observed, the more she was aware that these people needed room to work. It was very fascinating and unexpected.

A man dressed in a tuxedo hurried in her direction, not quite bowing and scraping, but anxious to assist. She was reminded that she was scheduled to participate in the opening ceremonies. The thought made her anxious, but only in a normal kind of way. She was used to giving speeches, except they were more often of a fashion bent. He smiled at her nervously and made an offer that she felt she should not refuse. "Would you be willing to take a photo with last year's winner? We are preparing a very short session now and your arrival is timely."

She allowed a smile to grace her lips, "Of course." She did not mention that the PR representative had strongly encouraged her to cooperate with just that sort of detail. As Cruella glanced with practiced ease around the dressing area, she considered that she might have done it anyway.

She took off her outer coat as the man led her to a small dais, handing it to Ben, who took it with surprising grace and folded it over his massive forearm. She stepped onto the platform and awaited direction. She glanced briefly at the owner of a well groomed spaniel. The owner managed to pull their attention away and focus on their dog, who appeared to be waiting with a great stillness. The photographer then began the choreography. This was something Cruella had some familiarity with, and she settled into easy motions of required press smiles and invasion of space.

It wasn't until the photographer wished her to a position nearer to the ground and the dog that Cruella hesitated. "Are you very sure?"

The owner was gracious, "You are probably aware that most dogs like an introduction first," he began. Cruella did not correct him, merely listened. "Daelyn is very used to strangers touching her. She won't bite or growl."

"Does it take very long to introduce someone?"

The gentleman offered his first sincere smile. "No. Would you like to meet Daelyn Grace Kelly?"

"Yes, please."

"If you'll extend your hand, palm forward, just under her nose. Dogs get to know people by scent, more than anything. They can't see certain colors. For instance, the red you're wearing, which by the way is spectacular, translates as grey."

"She's color blind? Poor thing." Cruella extended her hand carefully, but without undo trepidation. She was, after all, a dragon and much higher up the chain of predators.

"For them, scent is their color."

"Remarkable."

Daelyn sniffed Cruella's hand, then partially buried her nose in the woman's palm. She then looked expectantly at her owner. "She's open to the idea of you petting her, if you'd like."

"Petting," Cruella murmured. Then, very carefully, she stroked the dog's snout, then ear and neck. The animal leaned into the touch. "Charming."

"She can be." Daelyn's friend said. "She's a very good girl."

Daelyn spoke, a playful yip of pleasure that wasn't too high, nor too loud.

Cruella then took the position that the photographer had asked for. Daelyn, now a little more comfortable with the scenario, pressed in closely and licked the surprised fashionista on the cheek. That was the first shot the photographer got. Then he took a few more and, eyes sparkling, asked if Cruella was open to a few shots with another kind of dog.

Bearing in mind the PR lecture, and not feeling quite as displaced as she expected, the designer said, "Of course." Then she thanked both Daelyn and the owner, who looked remarkably pleased with Cruella.

Cruella waited patiently, while the photographer had the tuxedoed man find suitable animals. This gave her time to observe her surroundings more. Outside of this small photography space, the room was large, somewhat industrial in scope and appearance, and bustling with people. She eyed both animals and people, remembering the adage that some owners looked like their animal. She did not find that necessarily to be true. She did note how very well groomed and dressed the competitors were. Everyone, save perhaps for harried assistants and companions, were in their highest form. Cruella experienced a deep appreciation in that. She was reminded the secret few knew, which was that one could not truly love fur without first admiring and understanding the animals that wore them.

It did not take very long for volunteers to arrive at the photography staging area. Exhibitors and their dogs waited patiently for their turn. Cruella insisted on being introduced properly to every animal she met, even the more excitable ones. It was, she found, a winning strategy.

In this way she got to know several animals, including an Afghan hound, a Terrier, a Bulldog, and a Chinese crested, which she found quite remarkable for its near hairlessness. It was like a tiny entertaining bald man, only hairier. She felt herself to be doing quite well because of the successes so far.

Then she realized the photographer's plot, as a dalmatian was escorted up the small step by a tiny, smiling woman. "I hope you don't mind," she said. "But frankly, Nero and I couldn't resist. He loves your song."

"He does?" The designer forced herself to remain pleasant, as she knew only one song that was at all aimed at herself.

"Oh yes. Watch." The woman hummed a few bars of the song from the game, and Cruella's eyes widened as the dalmatian started to "sing" along. It left her somewhat speechless.

The tiny woman caught her consternation, "Oh, he doesn't mean anything by it, of course. It's the tune."

Cruella's brows were raised, "I understand that Dalmatians are a very... playful breed." She might not have done a lot of research on the dog show, but she had looked up dalmatians. Once. As an act of survival. She had never thought to meet one in person, however.

The tiny woman smiled indulgently. "They sure are. Would you care to be introduced?"

The fashion designer considered, then smiled, a little more warmly than she might have a half-hour earlier, and said, "Of course."

"Nero, this is De Vil."

Cruella extended her hand and the dog leaned in and gave her a good whiff. He spent some time doing so, and she imagined it must be partly because of all the other dogs she'd gotten to know. She realized she was somewhat glad to have her gloves on, now that she thought about it. Then, the dalmatian sat back on its haunches and lolled his tongue at her in a doggy grin.

Credentials established, Cruella cocked her head at the photographer who gave her a cheerful grin, a thumbs up and a verbal prompt. In this, she was more than willing to be directed. In fact, it was essential.

Still, as she knelt and felt the Dalmatian's friendly kiss on her ear, she couldn't help the toothy grin in return. Andy, she thought to herself, had been right. She was having much more fun than she expected. The photographer's flash caught that Draconian smile perfectly.

-TDWP-

Cruella had not been sure what to expect when she got up onto the judge's stage. She half-thought that there might be balloons of paint lobbed in her direction. She had not predicted the great, forceful cheer of enthusiasm from the audience. She had raised her hand in an astonished wave, only to receive more adulation. It was exhilarating and utterly confusing.

Still, she managed to say her few graceful words of welcome to those who were attending and then gave way to the those who would be doing the majority of the announcing. She took a comfortable seat on the dais, crossed her legs elegantly, and raptly watched as trainers and dogs were put through their paces, judges made arcane assessments, and audiences cheered on their favorites. She rooted for those she had made acquaintance with, but found herself enjoying the process much more than she ever would have guessed.

-TDWP-

She couldn't wait for Andrea's call. Cruella had too much to share. As soon as it was over and she was safely bundled in the car, she rang.

The young woman was, as always, prompt. She picked up after only two rings. "Hey. I thought I might hear from you." Andrea sounded pleased and happy.

"Andy, I have so many ideas!" Cruella enthused, dropping into the conversation as if they'd been having it all along. "The show was invigorating." Cruella settled comfortably into her seat and started sharing the details with the American with warm enthusiasm, including the photography session. Andy listened intently, now and then prompting with a question, until the excited designer wound down. "Afghans alone provide brilliant inspirations for a coat. Gorgeous sheen and cut. Of course, maintenance would be a high calling, but I can see their beauty."

Then the young woman said, "Sounds like you can hardly wait to get to the drawing board."

"True enough, darling. Now I wish I'd thought to bring a sketchbook with me. I am so out of the habit these days. There was a time I never left home without one."

"Did you ever draw things that weren't clothing?"

"Of course, darling. How else does one learn how fabric falls, or what would make a good bone button, or what colors to use? A designer must always pay attention to the details." Even though it was dark and the car was gliding along smoothly, the Dragon had the sense of something being off.

"Ben, take a different road." The giant, obedient to the command, eased onto a new street. Cruella chanced a glance behind. She spotted a sleek black sport vehicle. It seemed familiar. "How interesting."

"What is?" The journalist inquired. "The only problem with these calls, is that one can't see anything on the other side."

"True enough, Andy." Cruella said as she glanced back, again, "I think I'm being followed."

"That does it, I'm getting an iPhone. Cruella, don't get off this line."

"I have no intention of doing so. However, I also have no desire to chased around town either. It's much too late to play that kind of game. Ben, pull over at that pub, if you would please. We'll be going in."

"I'd feel better if you were pulling over at a police station."

"Where would be the fun in that? Besides, I know who it is. Reginald." Cruella's exhale was filled with long suffering.

"Who is Reginald?"

"Is that jealousy?"

"What? No. Of course not. I don't... It's concern, that's all."

Cruella hummed, then explained. "He is Lord Buckley and a thorn in my side. He wants to... get to know me better. That's a euphemism." She did not say that his intentions were far less savory.

"Don't hang up." Cruella felt a pulse of concern radiate from the journalist.

"I shan't. Ben is opening my door, however, and I need to get situated. Hold on."

As promised, it only took a few moments. She chose not to stand by the car, even though she was very aware that the other vehicle had also stopped and parked, and walked straight into the pub.

It was lit, but not overly so. She was aware of heads turning to look and then look again, before going back about their business. She put on her sternest glare and assumed a haughty stance. She waited until a barmaid drew close. "Something visible and facing the door, if you don't mind."

Soon she was seated, waiting. She lifted the phone to her ear. "Are you still with me, Andy?"

"She is nearby. This is Miranda."

Cruella's breath caught. "Oh. How unexpected."

"I thought perhaps you might need... back up."

Cruella considered and watched the door. She sucked in a breath when the Dragon Lord stepped into the pub. "Oh, he is smelling unusually good." Her gaze narrowed. "He's ... glowing."

"Glowing?"

"I don't have another word for it. Glamor, I think. It's," Cruella felt her mouth begin to water, "surprisingly potent. He's... very pretty right now."

"Is he?" Miranda's voice was stern, as if she were thinking quickly. "Focus on my voice, Cruella. Is any other female responding to his presence as you are?"

The designer found it difficult to tear her gaze away from the Lord's stunning presence. He hadn't spotted her yet, which was fortunate and gave her some strength. She glanced around. The answer, at its most basic, was yes. Almost every female and a couple of the males, had turned to see the entrance of Reginald.

The barmaid when up to greet him, suddenly all smiles. "Miranda," she shivered. "They can't take their eyes off of him. I see two other dragons and they're both...responding. The scent of him ...I should have told you, when we talked. I didn't expect him to play this dirty. He was going to wait for the ball, I thought."

"Told me what, Cruella?"

"I am not a virgin." It was a non-sequitor, but not really. "But I have never flown." A Dragon would know what that means.

"My god." There was a growl behind the words. "I should never have left you alone so long."

"And when, exactly, would you have been able to come get me?" Cruella snapped. Her fingers tugged at a button of her blouse, played with it. Undid it, allowing her blouse to flare a little more. She felt wanton urges flowering within and tried to resist them. "I am well aware that there have been, and still are, circumstances that must be taken into consideration."

"None of them your fault."

"I am aware. Damn it." She hissed a breath. Her hands trailed to the next button. She forced her hand down, onto the table. Dug her gloved hands, claws in, to keep it there. "She's leading him here."

"Do you have a headset for your cellphone, Cruella?" Miranda asked. "Preferably wireless?"

"Yes." Cruella answered. "It is already in my other ear actually. I usually prefer to speak to Andy directly. I was just in a hurry earlier and hadn't switched over yet."

"Good, switch to the headset. Be obvious about closing the phone. Try to avoid answering me directly as much as possible. We do not want him to 'suggest' for you to continue our conversation later."

Once more, Cruella tore her senses away from the approaching Lord. She focused on unobtrusively bringing her hand up to activate the bluetooth headset in her other ear, then placed her phone inside the pocket of her coat.

"Stay seated. Don't take anything from him, Cruella."

"Easy to say no, now, Miranda." Cruella snapped through gritted teeth as Reginald drew closer and the effect of whatever spell or glamour he was using became stronger. She gripped the edge of the table with both hands, so tightly that she felt the wood giving way beneath her claws. "Ben, stand in front of me. Don't let me go anywhere."

"Good call. Ben is not affected?"

"He's a giant," the designer offered in explanation. Just to confirm, though, Cruella snuck a glance up at her driver. He was stone-faced. His arms creaked as he folded them together in a classic bodyguard's pose. He blocked her way out, and due to his size, he blocked the other seat too. If she'd been able, she would have sighed in relief.

The barmaid led Reginald directly to Cruella's table and looked up at Ben, briefly, with a puzzled gaze. "Your guest is here," the woman said.

Reginald's smile was that of a predator. "Thank you, miss. You may go."

His temporary escort made a sound of disappointment. She looked as if she might linger, but he pushed her away. She didn't even cry out as she stumbled. Her gaze stayed on him the whole time she backed away.

Cruella tried not to breathe through her nose. It didn't help. Her vision was swimming. Then she heard, "Is he there?"

Miranda had carefully pitched her tone in a way that would ensnare the younger Dragon's confused senses, as only a mate or a potential mate that was another Dragon could. It pierced the fog of arousal that was beginning to surround Cruella and because she actually wanted the editor as a potential suitor, her words provided counterbalance to Reginald's undue influence. Cruella was able to answer her, in a roundabout way. "Lord Buckley. What brings you here?"

"Keep talking. Andy has made a call. Help is on the way."

"I saw you walking into this," he glanced about and looked unimpressed. "...establishment and couldn't resist following. I thought, there must be something special here. And look, here you are."

"Charming."

He glanced meaningfully at Ben. "Aren't you going to invite me to sit."

"Yes." The word slipped out without volition. "Shit."

"Now, that's not nice." The grin turned vulpine. "I'm sure we'll have plenty to talk about." He glanced up at her guard. "Move."

Ben did not. In fact, he took a step into Reginald's space. The Lord backed up. "Cruella, call off this... thing."

"I can't." She wasn't sure if she was talking to Miranda or Reginald.

"It is okay to say no to him. Even if he smells good," Miranda's voice was gentle, cajoling. "He has no right to you." The growl came out again and tied to a warm space in Cruella's belly.

"Why didn't you ever call?" She knew the answer. She had always known the answer.

Since he could not sit down, Reginald leaned against the seat, gave her a cocky smile. "Oh. You're right. I should have called first. I was simply afraid that you wouldn't answer. After all, we did not part on the best of terms, did we?"

"I couldn't," Miranda was replying. "I wanted to. So often. You have no idea."

A phone rang. Cruella was dimly aware of it. She found herself replying. "I'm afraid I was already in a very bad mood when you arrived Reginald." She couldn't stop her voice from flirting with his name. She shivered against it, tried to think of something that would break the compelling. A mere flick of the fingers would not do it. He had come into the pub fully armed.

-TDWP-

"Ben? Ben, this is Andy. You've heard of me, right. Alonzo patched me through. I hope that's okay. He's getting help. Where are you?"

"Gaffney Pub, Miss." The giant replied.

"Listen carefully. Cruella can't fend for herself right now. She's... under some kind of influence. You have to help her. Keep her safe. The guy who is there is bad news. I don't know him, but he's got her wound up wrong. Protect her at all costs. Don't let her go with him. She may try to hurt you. Don't let it stop you. If it comes to it, carry her out. But if you can, just keep her there until help arrives."

"I will."

"Good. I'd make you stay on the line, but you have a job to do. Protect Cruella."

"Yes."

"Good man."

-TDWP-

The double conversation was becoming confusing, but she managed it. What Reginald oozed in conversation, Miranda would balance either with calmness, an eroticism of her own, or a remark that cut Reginald's apart. Cruella could see that Lord Buckley was growing tired of the verbal interplay and her own ability to stream her thoughts into coherent replies was waning. She knew that time was running out and he was waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Where is your drink, Cruella?" Reginald finally asked. "Surely they would have brought it now."

If she had thought to order, they might have. The serving girl swung by four times, but Reginald kept sending her away. The other affected Dragons had already made their escape. She had known it was not easy for them and could not blame them in the least.

She felt hot, warm enough that she had wanted to take off her coat, but Miranda had stayed her hand with a few words. She had already unbuttoned two more buttons on her blouse, to alleviate the heat. Reginald had made no bones about ogling.

"I'm afraid I haven't had a chance to order," she replied breathlessly. A part of her wanted to crawl upon the table and curl around the male in front of her, but the giant had put his large forearm in front of her. His palm had made a huge indentation, where it had settled abruptly and firmly.

"Oh, forgive me. I should have realized." Reginald's smile broadened and Cruella felt her stomach fall. "Perhaps, if you don't think I am too bold..."

"Look for a clock, Cruella." Miranda spoke very firmly, there was a push at her back, as if the Dragon were really there. "Just look. You don't have to say anything yet."

Looking meant pulling her gaze away from the beauty in front of her. It cost her terribly, and it took forever for her to even slide her gaze up and towards a wall somewhere; any wall. No clock on that wall. She slid her gaze around the room in desperate slowness, but it kept returning to Reginald. She hummed.

"It's okay," The editor said, "Just say what I tell you to. Forgive me for interrupting, Reginald..."

Cruella forced the words out of her mouth and it came out sounding choppy and strange, "Forgive me for interrupting, Reginald. I only meant for this to be a short stop. I have an appointment."

"An appointment?"

"With the editor from Runway, London? You have heard of it? It's very important that I go see her." She was starting to sound more normal, more confident.

"You could reschedule."

"I could reschedule?"

"Of course you can. Everyone understands the need to reschedule."

"This meeting is at the behest of the editor of Runway, America. No one reschedules on Miranda Priestly unless they themselves are already dead."

"Oh surely not," Reginald scoffed. "No one is that important." He smiled again, eyes gleaming. "She's not that important," he said very softly. His hand moved in a wave. "She is not the one you want to be with."

Even with that sharp and dreadful compulsion, he could not even begin to compete with twenty plus years of longing and need. He could not force her to utter the lie or concede the point. Her lips firmed over clenched teeth. Her amber gaze flickered like a fire catching spark.

He took her silence as proof and pressed. "Cancel the appointment. I can fill your time much better than she can."

Miranda huffed, "Doubtful. Then again, it's not a matter of filling your time better, is it? Tell me Cruella, what would you do if I told you that failure to meet with the editor meant banishment from the industry? I would do it, dear Dragon, to save you. I would cut you out in a heartbeat."

Cruella puffed a laugh, despite herself. Somehow Miranda had managed to make that dire threat sound like the most erotic promise ever. But it shored her up, brought her back to what was important to her. "It's not a matter of filling my time better. We are speaking of what I do for a living. Failure to make the meeting means failure to be published, not just for tomorrow, but always. In every possible fashion magazine except maybe some poor sap's web blog."

He blinked owlishly at her, "Beg pardon?"

"The answer, therefore..." Cruella said, as she brushed her fingernails lightly across her chest and appeared to be musing, "... must inevitably be, whether one likes it or not, No."

"Excuse me?"

"I can not cancel. I can not go with you. Succinctly put, No."

Reginald's expression turned ugly. "You are denying me? You can't do that. I won't let..." He started to lunge forward and was grabbed by the collar and dragged back.

He snarled, "Unhand me at once!" The demand was directed at Ben until he realized that the bodyguard's hands were both where he could see them. Though one was now clenched in a fist and held as if ready to strike.

"'Fraid, sir, I can not do that. I'm under very strict orders, understand, to see to Ms. De Vil's best interests. You fail to meet the criteria." Jasper still hadn't let go of the back of the Lord's shirt and was holding him up by the collar so that his shoulders looked a bit off. "If you will please accompany the constable."

"What?" Lord Buckley fairly screamed.

"Two things, sir," Horace said. "First, your vehicle has suffered a tragic mishap, which you perhaps would like to see to. Second, a complaint has been made by several persons about your unusual appearance and behavior." Then the portly man stepped aside to let a blue uniformed individual step into the space.

The constable looked at Cruella and then at Reginald and his eyes narrowed. "Ma'am, did this individual give you anything to drink?"

Before Cruella could reply, Ben spoke. "It is possible sir. But I don't know that she would remember it."

"I see." Now the constable's expression turned frankly unfriendly and he returned his attention to Reginald. "If you'll come with me please."

Reginald forced himself to smile. "I don't need to go with you," he tried.

"Oh, but I insist," Jasper said and he slapped his hand on Reginald's chest, hard enough to make the Lord gasp for breath. Light flared briefly under the bodyguard's palm, then faded. The glow, which non-humans saw very clearly around Reginald, disappeared and the overpoweringly delicious scent eased in the air to something almost normal. "I'm afraid I must inform you that you are no longer welcome in the presence of Ms. De Vil. The lawyers will be contacting you and should you ignore all the niceties, so will we. Now go with the kind constable sir. You have much to see to."

Jasper pushed him towards Horace, who pushed Reginald towards the Constable. The constable grabbed the young Lord by the arm, just has he was finally able to catch his breath. "Do you know," he gasped out, "who I am?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to take that up with someone higher up the chain than me, sir. My job is fairly cut and dried regardless of name or rank. I will warn you that I am armed with both club and taser."

"You wouldn't?"

The constable glanced back at Cruella, who now lounged against her seat. Her gaze was heavy-lidded and a hand had drifted under her shirt to linger over a breast. The constable's teeth clenched. "Oh, sir, I absolutely would." He nodded at Ben, Jasper and Horace. "Take care of her. If she experiences memory loss, report it to the station. You have my number?"

"Yes sir," Horace replied. "We certainly do."

-TDWP-

"You may be sure, Ms. Andy, that we will have Ms. De Vil comfortably home within the hour. I do not know if she will be able to call, but shall let her know of your availability."

"Thank you, Horace. We had quite a scare here for her. Take care of her." Andy paused. "She's very important to me." She glanced at her brooding mate. "To us."

"We shall."

The phone finally clicked off. Andrea dropped her hands and stared at the black and silver phone for a moment before laying it on the end table. She shivered in reaction to the evening's events. It wasn't that late for them, but it was touching on midnight for Cruella and she had, Andrea thought, a longer way to go.

The young woman stood up. She had been pacing for much of the event, but she still felt the need to be doing something, anything. It was just leftover energy.

She glanced over at Miranda, who had taken position by a window. The silver-haired woman was staring out onto the darkened landscape, looking at who knew what. Probably nothing.

Andrea watched her for a few seconds, pausing in her own unsteady motion to try to gain an understanding of the previous events. She had been so glad she'd gotten to know Alonzo even a little bit. She had been so glad for Jasper and Horace. She had been so glad for Miranda, who had stepped in, like a miracle, to handle something that was far beyond Andrea's normal ken.

One thing had become very clear, though. "You know her. Or rather," she said without heat, "You knew her." She was too tired for more drama. This was merely fact gathering, clarification.

"Not really," Miranda replied distantly. "We had one moment of contact. One. She was... she was a child at the time. A baby." Miranda turned, pressing a hand to her neck before dropping it down in her lap. "A Dragon kit. Younger than the twins."

"You kept track of her though, didn't you? Because, that's who you are."

"Keeping track is not the same as staying in touch."

Andrea stepped forward, hesitated, then put her hand on Miranda's shoulder. "That wasn't an accusation."

She felt the shiver under her palm and knew that Miranda was much more affected than appearances revealed. She whispered, with some amusement, "I've been struggling and struggling to think of how to tell you about what I was beginning, just beginning to realize..."

Miranda turned only enough to look at Andrea. "I thought, at first, that it was impossible. After all, it was so early to meet. And she was so young. She was also stubborn and precocious." She smiled slightly. "For months, in dreams, she would come to me. I kept sending her away. I doubt she even remembers."

"Miranda. That's called denial."

"I had to stop her, you see. It was so dangerous." If it had been anyone other than her mate, she wouldn't be explaining. "They would have found her and I could not let that happen to her." She sighed. "Nature protects us some, in the beginning. As silver hair is the clue for who the White-Gold Dragon is, amber eyes are the clue as to who the Black-Gold Dragon might be. When a White-Gold Dragon is born, there is only ever one of us. We stick out like a banner waving; look world and heavens, change is upon you. When the Black-Gold Dragon is born, however, several Black Dragon kits either will be born or have been born around the same time; all with amber in their eyes and all of them shade darker, like the color of night. Black dragons are the only ones that do not gain their true aspect until later, when several criteria are met, the least of which, is their first mating."

"So if, say, the royal house wants to get rid of the potential heir, they go after the obvious one."

Miranda nodded sharply, almost painfully. "It is a logical, if dangerous play."

Andrea dropped her hand and tried to face the grief in Miranda's eyes. "And if that doesn't work?"

"In the middle ages, the human history books say that black cats were killed for fear's sake. That is somewhat true, but it is an oblique reference to the event that led to the dark ages. The ruling family at that time, could not get to the White-Gold Dragon. So they did the next best thing. They swore to eradicate any kit with a hint of amber or black in their aspect. So many dragon kits were killed that there was a revolt, by all the dragons and their Houses. The ruling House fell, but they'd succeeded in their endeavor. The Black-Gold Dragon never rose during her or his mating flight. With Houses in ruin and no heirs to take over the reins, everything came apart. Trust had been destroyed between the Houses. It was a time of the Broken Bond. The dragons whose houses remained somewhat intact came together maybe once, when the humans started trying to take advantage of the discord."

"The dragon hunts."

"Yes. It was a very bad time, I am told. I, of course, was not alive then."

Andrea laughed a little. "I admit, a part of me was wondering."

Miranda's glare was piercing and teasing. Then she sighed, "Years ago, at the ball where Cruella and I encountered one another, I had just returned to the world. I was in college when the invitation came."

"Fashion?"

"Journalism."

"Really?"

"Mm. Yes. I was working at a fashion house though." Miranda looked away from Andrea and back out the window. "It was not my first ball, but it was a fateful one. I had been dating a young man and had made the mistake of inviting him along with me. He did not take the discovery half as well as you, my Andrea."

"He fainted too?"

"Ran out of the building. Out of my life." Miranda shrugged. "I was very sad, but that wasn't what broke my heart. I had put in for a House acknowledgment by the Council. I can't argue their decision now, but then... it was awful and left me vulnerable. I had to take a mate and the selection was not ..." Miranda shrugged at a loss for words. "Cruella had a much older cousin, a prince in his clan. Their House used to be an ally, but time and the..." Miranda's lips pursed together tightly in displeasure, "... weakness of my House, had weakened their connection and willingness to step forward. I had thought, perhaps I could live with it, if it meant shoring up what was left. But... frankly... He is and was an ass. He was vulgar in his so called attempt to woo me. Not that he tried very hard. I couldn't let it pass."

"You cut him down?"

Now Miranda smiled and it was a frigid thing. "Like grass." Then she looked rueful, "And given the time and location, it was a very public event."

"The Ball?"

"The Masquerade, a time of choosing, if one wills to. I was supposed to choose Drakon, for political reasons. I chose Jeffrey. It was not a politic decision, but it was a good one."

"Well, you did get the girls out of it."

Miranda's smile was a thing of true beauty, "Yes. Quite worth it. And he remains a doting father. It is possible we would still be together, were it not for the fact he could not keep up with my advancement in life. Being a Green Dragon, he prefers a quieter lifestyle."

"Why did you marry Steven? He's not a Dragon."

"That would be why I married him. I thought it might be easier and I have lived as human for a long time."

"Ah. So, let's see if I have this right, the House De Vil used to be an ally, but this guy fucks it up for everyone. They blame you, because you don't like being treated like meat. I'd call that one their bad. Because you can't get a major House to back you, the council shoots you down. Then you meet Cruella?"

Miranda turned and gazed at Andrea. She lifted her hand and brushed a brunette lock of hair gently. "I have mentioned before how impressed I am with you."

"I like hearing it. Again and again. It's a vanity thing."

"Quite." The Dragon leaned in and kissed her mate softly. "But to answer your question more fully, imagine the timing of it if I'd met Cruella before Drakon."

"You still would have had to deny her."

"Only much more publicly. As it was, our meeting, as brief as it might have been, was actually one of the more fortuitous things to happen at that damnable ball."

"Do masquerades only happen at Balls? You mentioned that you lost Jeffrey to one in a previous conversation."

"No. They happen at other times. Dragons like to get together now and then. It was time to move on anyhow. Halloween makes a convenient time for those kinds of gatherings."

"Ah, I get it. So. Miranda. About Cruella."

"Yes?"

"Are we going to go get her now?"

"I'm thinking about it. But it's impractical and would leave her vulnerable."

"Miranda, she's already vulnerable. And in danger. You heard. They're... they're... Some one is trying to get her."

"They are trying, but out of ignorance. No one knows of any connection, besides professional, between us. And even then it is a tenuous thing, as I have been very careful not to engage in any sort of social interaction with her. For a long time we did not even take submissions from her Fashion House, but," Miranda sighed and looked pleased, "... their work has remained consistently excellent. It could not be ignored. Even so, it was a great risk for her to even allow mention of Runway to this Reginald person."

"Maybe, maybe not." Andrea put up her hand when Miranda opened her mouth to comment. "But that's not the point. It might not even have anything to do with you at all. From everything that I've learned, Cruella is from an influential House. From what we just overheard, this person's attentions are unwanted, and he's pressing the issue, using foul means, not just fair. That is a danger that we can't just ignore, even if she wasn't already for us. From both a personal and political perspective, we had to do something. It was the right thing to do. What would have happened if we hadn't been on the phone with her just then?"

Miranda recalled the way Cruella had been beginning to sound, sensual and provocative. And that startling revelation regarding her level of sexual experience. Miranda's shudder was involuntary and a moment passed before she replied. "I don't know." She shook her head, trying to clear the momentary fear. "But Ben was there."

"Yeah. He was. And then Jasper and Horace. I think I may really like them," Andy said, thoughtfully.

"I think I may too." Miranda said.

"Cruella did have the foresight to tell him to stay." Andrea nodded, thinking back.

Miranda's smile was tight, "One can not say she lacks intelligence or the ability to plot ahead. Though I question her choice to even get out of the damn car."

"It's her. I think. She doesn't like waiting if she doesn't have to."

Miranda digested that, "Which tells us both what she would say to an effort to swoop in and interfere."

"Miranda," Andrea sighed, "I know that you had valid reasons for denying the bond when she was just a kid. But she's an adult now, with her own power. She's able to make her own decisions. I'm in more danger than she is, because I still don't know all of the rules to this world I've suddenly been thrust into. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I'll do anything that I have to do, to be with and stay with you. She's grown up in it, though. At this point, she's probably been more involved in the Dragon world than you have."

"Andrea..."

"No, Miranda." Andrea stopped her again. "It's time you guys talked. Really talked. Lay it out for her. Give her all the facts. Let her make her own decision."

"I will think about it."

Andrea smiled. "That's all I can ask." Hearing the front door open, which signaled the arrival of Marie Angela with the Book, Andrea kissed the top of her Dragon's head. "Don't stay up too late."

-TDWP-

Alone in her room, Cruella writhed upon her bed. Spiraling, dizzying emotional vertigo forced her to clutch the bedding. Her fingernails, which had ruptured into claws during Reginald's untimely visit, punctured through the cloth, tore at the fabric. The glamor was gone, but its effects upon her continued to run a long course. Her eyes glowed. Her body sang and ached. She needed and hungered, sharply and deeply. She ached for them and they were so far away.

More than mere desire spun through her. She could still hear Miranda and Andy in her head, each phrase ever uttered to her returned to her verbatim, took on the echo of seduction and charm. If Reginald had hoped his spell would take in the aftermath, the seed died and withered under the their combined sun. The need for them hurt so much she broke into a cacophony of crazed laughter. It scattered and broke through the bounds of the door, the halls, filled the whole mansion with a noise forlorn, awful and amused.

Somewhere in that long mad moment, a thought stung her, wriggled past torment into meaning and straight into a decision. She would let them know how much she needed them. She would make them feel her as much as she, who had never had the comfort of their arms, felt them. It would take a touch of magery, an actual incantation to make a full effect, since they were not yet mates. But she needed them to know this, to feel what they had wrought in her.

She sought and spun the threads within, sought and found those eternal, but much too tenuous, ties. They shimmered in her grip, sizzling blue and scorching white-gold. Her pair, who seemed so damned oblivious, ignoring that which was most important and hers by right.

"Andy," she purred, looking at the blue one hand. Then she gazed at the other. "Miranda." She twirled the tendrils, warping and wrapping them so the tendrils covered both index and middle fingers as completely as their short lengths allowed. "You are going to feel my need. Suffer my want."

Without a better canvas or paint, she dipped into desire's well, touching herself with both hands. Then, still using both her hands, she wrote their names upon her body, cutting them upon her skin with her claws. The blood rose and pooled darkly as she chanted ancient, arcane, chained words. They began echoing in her ears, in the room, filled her thoughts and blended with Andrea and Miranda's voices, which she could not escape and only wanted more of. The names she marked on her body began to move and caress her, as if they were the hands she so desired. Pleasure and pain scrolled across her skin. She pushed it, caressing herself to the time of her writhing, unable to help herself and knowing only one cure. She stroked her belly, her thighs, brought her hands back to dip and stir, thrumming her fingertips in delicate, dangerous motion. She plunged into herself, two fingers and deep, brought herself close and closer still and just at the cusp and over. She withdrew her touch and then, drew her bond-tendril wrapped fingers through the marks of blood and threw her hands out, spreading them wide with a howling scream.

-TDWP-

Andrea first felt it as a buzz, starting at her ear and firing down along her skin. It was so intense it woke her. "Cruella," she whispered. Midwestern practicality would not allow Andrea to ignore the surge of arousal or its origination and her first intention was simply to respond. But the sensation matured and intensified before she had the chance. "Whoa." It was utterly different than anything she knew and was not the summons or tease that she and Miranda sometimes played with. She felt the essence of Cruella and something more, felt it as heat and fear and need and want and a hundred potent, overwhelming things.

She sat up in the bed, grasping the sheet that had covered her with both hands. Moisture filled her eyes and pooled between her thighs. "Cruella," she panted. She looked around for her cell phone, intending at first to call, then intuited that it would be moot. This was not about what could be said or not said. This was not about how Andrea could comfort. It was just short of an invitation, more of a revelation. She was not being summoned to act, but to hear, to see, to feel.

"My Dragon," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Oh. Cruella."

-TDWP-

Miranda leaned against the wall, just before the stairwell. She needed the support.

"No. This is wrong," she murmured. It should have been over by now. Cruella should not be suffering so.

Unless, Reginald had done something more. She panted through the next rolling dose of sensation, willed her legs to support her as her mind frantically pursued the thought and came to the necessary conclusion.

Her phone was closest, on the charger. The Book, which had been dropped to the floor, was undignified in its splay and she still managed to find something sexual in it. "That bastard," she uttered, filled with anger and contempt. She staggered back, grasped her phone and manipulated it until she had the number she wanted.

Once again she found herself counting the number of rings. The forth ring brought contact. "H-hell Hall. H-house of De Vil."

"You. Alonzo. Tell... tell them to check the car. He left something. She can't rest till it's gone. That's all." She snapped the phone shut and let it drop to the floor. She ran carelessly up the steps. She tried to remember if the girls were home, realized they were with their father so they could go Christmas shopping. She felt a welling of relief that was so deep it temporarily overwhelmed the onslaught of Cruella's aching send.

Miranda leaned against the door frame and used that relief, spoke it into being and sent it, trying to soothe what burned her Dragon.

-TDWP-

Andrea had been in the process of stripping out of a nightgown when Miranda entered. She finished undressing and let the silky cloth drop to the floor. "I couldn't stand it on my skin any more," she whispered. "Hurts."

Wordlessly, Miranda, still completely dressed, even down to her heels, strode forward and grasped Andrea's face in her hands. She kissed her deeply, twining her tongue around her lover's. She pulled back. "We can not be gentle this time," she whispered. "She needs to feel it. To feel us. I can not fly fast enough to get to her and this is the only way."

"Too bad you can't teleport," Andrea joked weakly. She began pulling at Miranda's clothes.

"I'm not old enough."

The seriousness of the reply caught the young woman off guard. "Come again."

"Age has its advantages in the Dragon world, Andrea. The longer one lives..."

"The more powerful you become." Andrea nodded, lifted Miranda's shirt off, even as the other woman kicked off her heels. They were moving fast. Andrea was trying to be careful, but Miranda had ceased to be. She ripped out of her bra as her mate dragged off her pants and underwear.

"I will try not to hurt you," Miranda said, as she raised Andrea back up.

"I already hurt." Tears leaked out the sides of the brunette's eyes. "She hurts so much, Miranda."

The Dragon growled and once again captured Andrea in a kiss. She pushed her back onto the bed and they fell to it together. "We will connect fully with her, understand? She must know we heard and felt her. She must not believe herself to be alone in this."

"Yes. I'll follow where you lead."

Miranda's grin was a terrible, beautiful thing. She lifted her hand, palm forward, showing it to Andrea. Brown eyes widened as the perfectly manicured fingernails lengthened and sharpened. They were, as she recalled, already very sharp, but these were something completely different and curved just slightly to a point. She inhaled, feeling just the hint of fear and awe. "You're just going to keep surprising me all my life, aren't you?"

The silver-haired woman, leaned in and pressed her lips against the bridge of Andrea's neck and shoulder. She brushed a kiss there, then caught it between her sharp teeth, pressing without exactly biting. Andrea, in instinctive animal awareness, held very still. Miranda released her, and whispered in the younger woman's ear. "One may hope so. Just wait until you see my wings and tail." She didn't even have to look to see the girl's eyes widen, which only added to her sultry grin. "Now, my Lady, you will sing for me, but not yet. We have a spell to weave and I must be the one to speak it. If you want to see it working, open your Dragon's eyes. If you just want to feel it..." She caught Andrea's ear with her teeth next, again there was pressure, but not a pure bite. She tugged and then suckled lightly, smiling as Andrea wriggled. She grasped her mate by the hips, pressing in just enough for the younger woman to feel her claws but, as with her teeth, not enough to draw blood.

She began to speak, in words that Andrea did not not understand at all, except that they seemed to flow into her and under her skin with increasing sensual heat. Her body felt as if she were opening to Miranda's call. The moan she uttered barely avoided sliding into a whine of need, but her legs parted more and she pressed up with her hips. Her heart and center pulsed with Miranda's sensual chant, taking on the beat and cadence of it. Her Dragon's hands slid along her skin, sides, breasts, belly. She felt the bite of the nails, but without sting or piercing. Then her lover's fingers were searching, and stirring, sliding in Andrea's silky, liquid need. Miranda's mouth also trailed sensual fire, drifting from long, breathless kisses, to owning each breast in turn. Andrea's eyes had caught blue fire, though she could not see it.

Miranda, whose eyes also blazed, did see it and knew it was time. She pressed into Andrea, very carefully. She wanted to plunge in, to seize the moment, to claim her mate, but that would come soon enough.

The tendrils of their bond were already tied to one hand, it was the the other that she called now, the bond that belonged to herself and Cruella, and Cruella and Andrea. She pulled the "strings" of both, dragging her claw along Andrea's cheek, scoring it just a tiny bit so droplets of blood peaked, but the wound would not scar. The tendril flowed to her hand, circled in her palm as she brought forth the link from within herself.

She withdrew her other hand from Andrea who growled a resistance and was silenced with a blistering kiss. Her lips bruised and split, bled. They both tasted the copper and salt of it. Miranda clasped both her hands together, pressing, and pulled them apart, claws down. She then moved until Andrea was between her legs while she knelt. She brought her hands down on the younger woman's belly, drew sigils and names, again scoring Andrea's skin so very carefully. And then she scored her own salt water and blood in intimate ritual upon herself.

Having been silenced so effectively, Andrea watched all this with rapt attention. Her hands clasped Miranda's thighs. She held to her mate, kneading like a cat.

Miranda's chant did not cease. The light that was always in them, always moving curled through and around them. The silver-haired Dragon, found Andrea's core again, slid into her with one perfect motion. With the other hand, she drew one of Andrea's hands down, clasping their palms together briefly, before guiding her mate to her own.

They began moving together then, sliding. Andrea's utterances, long gone post-verbal counterpointed Miranda's incantation. The Dragon grabbed long, brunette tresses in her hand and crushed them, pulling Andrea's head in the direction she wanted, until the young woman was staring into her eyes.

The chant gained paced. Andrea, leaned forward, needing the full contact of Miranda's body to her own. She wrapped her free arm around Miranda's back, to press them even closer, until she could feel the rise and fall of Miranda's tightened nipples scrape sensually along her skin. She kissed Miranda's neck, felt the pulse of life under her lips. She sucked, pulling the skin tight, wanting to mark the Dragon as her own in a way that she knew how.

Light sparked all around them, gathered like a storm waiting to happen. Sweet, delirious pressure started to spill into small shivers of urgent pleasure. Miranda's heightened chant escalated and approached climax. Her voice, normally always modulated to a specific tone and strength, became stronger and more powerful. She tugged Andrea closer, pressed her mouth to her Lady's, practically shouting as the tension wound tighter. It was an unavoidable cascade, a breaking of some wall within, as that pressure which had built pushed through the cracks and poured thunderously through them both. Andrea and Miranda screamed as both pleasure and pain scoured through them, burst into light outside of them. Miranda threw her head back, and cast her hand, palm up, towards the ceiling. A thick column of blue and white light, wrapped in violet exploded from her palm and out, cracking the ceiling with the force of the spell. The air around them began to tremble and shake.

They clung to each other, rocking gently, breathing deeply as Miranda pressed her lips against Andrea's temple. The she said, as if she were continuing a conversation, "I replied, you see, to the cry. I offered an invitation. She can reject it. If she does, all we will know is that this was how she felt, this was her need. If she accepts it, then we share in it, we take all that was thrust upon her together. If it is what I think it was, the urgency will come again and again and again, Andrea, harder each time. But we will ride the storm of it together and she will know that we know she is ours and she will know that we know we are hers. But there will be consequences, my Lady. There always are and I can't tell you what the end result will be."

The brunette lifted her lips to Miranda's; offered her devotion and unconditional surrender. "I understand."

-TDWP-

The satiation lasted much too short a time before Cruella was caught in the fire again. The respite had only been minutes before she felt as if she were swimming in a haze of want and need. She had hoped...

She had hoped.

Angry and needful, she pressed her hands to her body, magic still swirled under her skin, in her eyes, through her fingertips. She could do it all over again, raise the roof with her want. But she'd already shouted out to them. She had made her bid.

She contemplated turning over and touching herself that way. The truth is, she found many positions favorable and enjoyed them all. Normally. She did not like this burning, this twisting of what usually pleased her. She might try a toy, but she wasn't ready to go that route yet. She wanted... what she wanted.

The same as it was and had been.

She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the first driving pulse, trying to pretend she would not give in. She held off, counting her breath, making a score for each minute she could.

Then she heard the wind, or something like it, a whistle in the air, a tremor. She opened her eyes wondering what was going to afflict her now. She just happened to be looking up and saw tornado of light magic, swirling in an arrow point above her. It hovered dangerously above her, as if waiting.

"What's this? What's this?" She shouted in shock and wariness, the memory of Reginald's attempt was still very firm in her mind. But as she watched the storm of magic above her, she was oddly soothed. As her breathing calmed, the arrow of light unfurled and unwrapped like a flower. Swirling lines of light reached down and fluttered about her, just out of reach. Then, she realized, the ribbons of magic whirling above her, were colors she knew, including her own most unique signature. She snatched at them, to try and get a feel for what it was, and they would jerk away, just before she could touch them.

"Oh!" She suddenly understood, suddenly realized what was necessary and why the storm had gentled above her. It was the answer she had been waiting for. She grinned maniacally and shouted, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

That affirmation was all it took. The result was the opening of a floodgate. The flower expanded, exploded and light spilled down from the center of it, in a powerful rush. She reached to catch it, but it slipped through her fingers, washing over like water and then spinning together again so fast she could hardly track it. Magical energy clapped against her body and belly with a sound like a sonic boom, snapping the air around her, and causing her to gasp as it balled and curled in before expanding and covering her head to toe. The force of the magic swirling around her physically lifted her up and threw her back onto the bed, but she held on and this time, when she clenched her fists, she captured what she sought and laughed in glee and power. She held one fist up, "Andy!" and then the other, "Miranda!" and pulled her fists back in to cover her heart. "Mine!"

The rush of desire, which had momentarily been set back in her attention, surged violently and claimed her with the ferocity of a tiger. This time, however, she was fortified. With feral exhilaration, she claimed it back.

-TDWP-

They knew the moment Cruella said yes, because that brief respite was shaken from the foundation right on through them. Andrea's smile went gorgeous and wide. "She said yes!" Then she pushed forward onto Miranda and kissed her with wild abandon.

What followed was, as Miranda had warned her, a night of tumult and wantonness that rolled in waves through them all; starting rough, like a thunderstorm, but ending like soft rain. And, as promised, they shared the experience; not as one consciousness or as a completed Bond, but they were as completely together in the knowing and feeling across the span of an ocean as might otherwise be possible. They "spoke," to one another across the forged line and knew and felt.

As the original push of energy that Reginald had used to spike Cruella's punch decreased, the mystical momentum of their need for one another increased. What would have naturally taken time between personal encounters, wound thick between them and tied them. The magic that Reginald used to manipulate his chances, to try to force Cruella's acceptance, scarred the young Dragon, heart and soul, but the defense they used to combat it healed her. It also changed them, however, and bound them together in potent chains different from the mate bond that would later be forged. By the time it was finished, what had been meant to harm had been tamed, ridden through in all its wildness, and then soothed, between them. The mighty fire was theirs to use and only added to their power, to their knowing. The blaze between them had become a live thing.


	8. Chapter 8

TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 8

The heir to the House De Vil sat in the estate's receiving room, upon an ornate throne that was centuries old, yet still quite sturdy. Her hands were uncovered, claws still extended. They tapped against the enamel of the wood armrests as she listened to the House report, which was being delivered not by Alonzo, but by Jasper and Horace this morning. Alonzo watched her nervously, as if any moment she might leap off the chair and destroy everything around her. It wasn't that she was moving dangerously, it was that the aspect of predator was so strong, that even the elves were standing several feet away from her.

She leaned back in the chair, legs crossed elegantly. She wore black, cut to reveal and display, accentuated by silver ornaments and jewelry. Her bi-colored hair was coiffed wildly, waving in slow motion in wind that wasn't there. Her amber eyes, hidden by the half-lidded attention she appeared to be giving, held the hint of a glow, flickering in time to the movement of her hair.

"The item was retrieved and burned," continued Jasper. "In combination with the events of three nights previous, it was enough to put him on the House De Vil watchlist. The injunction denying Lord Buckley access to your person was moderately successful. He is now to stay one hundred feet away." He glanced at Horace. Cruella had only that morning come out of her room and it was apparent that some change had been wrought. He waited a moment more for her to reply, but she said nothing. "We will insure that he abides by the ruling."

"Why?"

"Pardon me?"

"His damage is done."

"He is a danger..."

She carved a slow groove into the chair with her index finger. "Perhaps. And what efforts have his House made to set things right?" She waited and looked at the two guards. "You do have connections in place, at House Stanbury to tell you that sort of thing, don't you?"

They looked at each other and Horace said, "He has been sanctioned and fined."

"The sum?"

"One thousand pounds."

"Paltry."

"Yes, but bruising to the ego."

Her teeth glittered when she growled, "I care nothing about his ego. He needs punishment beyond a mere slap on the wrist." The words were flat and cold. "What reaction from House De Vil's current representative?"

Jasper, Horace and Alonzo engaged in a burst of wordless conversation carried out in body language and worry alone.

"Stop. Enough. Apparently, dear cousin Drakon is choosing to ignore the slight upon this House. Am I correct?"

Jasper compressed his lips and offered a nod.

"Fine. Then I shall respond. As the aggrieved party and heir to the House, my minions are hereby authorized to make Lord Reginald's life more difficult. No death, the pity. No dismemberment, also a pity. But you may use the old forms, magic and whatever is needed, to ensure the message that trifling with a member of House De Vil will result in bad things is conveyed to Lord Buckley and House Stanbury."

"You want us to include the whole House?"

She stood up with a suddenness that startled them. They backed away from the dangerous look in her eyes as she strode past them with a predator's grace that sent chills down their spines. Even Ben hesitated before following. She turned abruptly to face them all. "He was their representative. He used coercive agents upon me. He did so publicly. Trust me, they are expecting it. They are not so foolish as to think that mere sanctions and a thousand pounds will buy them freedom from any portion of wrath." She drew back slightly. "I suppose you may be kind to animals, the insane, and the children, but the adults... I want those responsible to be accounted and served notice - at the very least."

"And if we find any innocent..."

"Treat them as innocent. I am after the guilty. Do I have to do all the thinking here?"

Horace cleared his throat. "No, Ms. De Vil. We will see to it."

"Make Reginald pay for this. Or I will. And if I must step in, there will be blood. Are we quite clear?" All of the minions jumped at the escalation.

-TDWP-

Cruella crouched, allowing for the skirt, and stared in the box. Wriggling in the box, their eyes still blue, were three puppies of unknown origin. "Left at the gate, you say?"

"Yes. They are not ensorcelled. We did check." He cleared his throat, "We had planned to contact the pound."

"The pound? No. That won't do." She did not reach down to touch them, but cocked her head and looked at her manservant. "Alonzo, find a no-kill shelter and send them there. Pay for their upkeep and medical needs. Do some research and find a good one. If the shelter needs funding, we will provide it." She rose again, in supple and extraordinarily beautiful motion. "I imagine we should expect more of this as an unintended consequence of the show. Once the shelter has been chosen, put the recommendation in public spaces and on the Fashion House website."

Alonzo managed a pleased, if startled smile. Then he bowed, "As you wish, Ms. De Vil."

-TDWP-

Cruella had always had a powerful, beautiful stride, but now her walk contained a sultriness that turned even jaded heads. As she entered the Fashion House, people stopped working or stumbled, or crashed into their desks or carts. Her lips quirked with amusement at the chaos she left in her wake, but she never stopped the purposeful pace which carried her to her office.

Ben and Alonzo trailed after her. Alonzo's hands were full of portfolios, folders and some clothing samples. Ben carried only the pistol that now resided in a holster under his jacket. Alonzo followed her into the room, while Ben stopped and took a place just near the door. His stern gaze did much to restore the local composure.

Inside the office, Cruella continued until she took a seat at her desk. Alonzo drifted to a stop, just in front of it. Silence held them both still for a moment. Cruella eventually spoke, keeping her words soft, "You may place the portfolio on my desk, the files go where-ever you put them and I would like the samples somewhere I can easily find them; perhaps beside my design table?"

Alonzo began flurrying around the office, setting things in place. He moved like a butterfly, winging in seemingly random directions, yet always landing where he was supposed to go. As usual, she found it strangely compelling. When he came to rest in front of her desk again, she waited as he gathered himself for what he might think of as the next round.

When he arrived at a point of stillness, she leaned back and crossed her legs, and placed her folded hands in her lap. When she spoke, it was in those same even tones. "Alonzo?"

"Yes, Ms. De Vil?"

"When exactly did you cease communicating accurate information to the Royal House?"

He went utterly still. Then opened his mouth and shut it again, opened and shut it.

"It is a simple enough question, isn't it? And, I do think I deserve an answer." She continued, her amber gaze pierced him to the core. "You made a choice, I think. An interesting one, from a certain angle. A very dangerous one from another. I can't imagine they will be happy when they find out."

He whispered, "They won't find out. It won't happen."

"Alonzo," she drew his name out. "Of course they will. With Reginald out of the running for at least a few weeks, they will begin to think about what went wrong and how it went wrong. It will, inevitably lead them to my doorstep. To you."

He looked away from her, trying to find anything at all to gaze at beside those eyes.

"I can't protect you if you don't talk to me, Alonzo."

He trembled. She stood up and walked around her desk, then placed her hip on the edge of it. She laid a gloved hand upon his face. "I can never be what you want me to be, Alonzo. It's not in the cards. I have my destiny and I want it. I will have it. Your ... change of heart... has been an unexpected thing in my life and I have valued it." She gazed sternly at him. "Never doubt it."

"I-I don't, Cruella," he braved, uttering her first name in her presence for the first time.

She dropped her hand from his face. "I will require the blood oath, if you choose to stay. Otherwise, I will require you to leave. I can no longer afford to have people close to me that I can not trust. This does not mean that I would leave you unprotected. I merely would need to know the approximate time that you chose me first. Then I would give you the length of that time to get your affairs in order."

He swallowed. "I-I."

"Is it so difficult then? Are you so afraid of me?" Then she nodded to herself. "Ah, but that is part of it, isn't it?" she purred. "But I can not command you in this, Alonzo. I simply can not. You must make a more concrete choice. You may step away, if it will make it easier. But you may not leave this room, until you have decided one way or the other." Her expression of compassion was a rare thing and she bestowed it upon him. He staggered away, drifted in random directions, until he found a point of stillness somewhere away from her and turned his back to her.

She watched him quietly, as he shook. She inhaled lightly, considering the years he had been with her. She could guess the date, but that would not be the same. One could love and still betray.

It was ages before he turned back again, but his body was relaxed for the first time since she'd met him. He strode closer and she tried to read what to expect from his expression, but it was surprisingly neutral. He came to rest back where he started from.

"Well?" she said softly, without the demand that normally shot adrenaline up his spine.

He lifted his chin. "I choose you," he paused, "... and yours. If you'll have me?"

She felt an unexpected prickle of tears at the edge of her eyes, but kept her expression firm. "Have you given blood oath to the Royal House? It would be very bad to make a conflicting oath. A broken oath does tend to activate unfortunate events."

"No. I h-have not." His smile was a little cockeyed, but there was humor in his eyes. "They did not require it."

Her lips curled back in amused response. "Such lack of foresight. Oh well. Their loss." Then she extended her hand out. "Your palm, if you will, Alonzo."

He extended his right hand, palm up, in a quick motion and laid it in hers. She took off her glove and placed that on the desk. Then she laid her other hand over his, claws down. "Now, Alonzo, you'll have to try not to bleed all over the carpet."

"I shall see to it, Ms. De Vil."

"See that you do." She squeezed his hand lightly before pressing her index claw against his skin. She made the cut, one thin, deep line. "Repeat after me..."

-TDWP-

Across the ocean, on a different continent, there was a gathering of Dragons in the Editor-in-Chief's office. It was a doors closed meeting, where only those individuals who had sworn fealty to House Priestly were invited.

"I have contacted our fellows at Runway London. The De Vil spread will be shot as immediately as possible, once the new line is revealed. Ms. De Vil will let us know, as early as tomorrow. I have seen some of her designs, but not all. Our head-editor in London, shall this once, have first choice. This will allow my people to run in her sphere of influence without attracting too much attention. Closer ties shall then be built and will require some subtlety on our parts; at least in the beginning." Miranda turned a baleful glare upon them all. "She is to be guarded and watched with great care. I will brook no harm, and if harm comes to her, through failure of one of my own to act there will be consequences of an enduring nature. Her enemies are my enemies. Understood?"

Various responses greeted her declaration, but not one of them was negative. She nodded once. "Good. Now to the next order of business. A small formality, but one I must now address for the sake of the House." She pressed a key on her phone, creating the intercom connection between her desk and Emily's. "Please send Andrea in."

Some of the Dragons there might have remembered a time when the person who strode confidently into the office would have opened the door timidly, before closing it quietly. This version of Andrea snapped the door shut with a firm click, but entered without a moment's pause or aspect of fear. Her chocolate gaze was centered on one target only, and she paced towards Miranda with a sensual gate that spoke of smoke and fire. For those interested in how she looked, she was impeccably, if simply, dressed in a cream blouse, opened to reveal a sweet amount of cleavage, black slacks, black belt, black heels. They had a few moments to appreciate the view as she walked past them and straight into the editor's arms.

The kiss bestowed was no mere peck, but slow and soft, and just barely decent for public viewing. It was only after the embrace that Miranda turned her attention back to the Dragons.

"Andrea, these few are sworn to my House. You know Nigel and Serena..." Miranda introduced the others with a few simple words, while the young woman gazed seriously at them and nodded at the right times. The introductions done, the queen Dragon said, "I formally present to you, my mate, Lady Andrea Sachs. She is my Bonded. When it comes to House Matters, her word is my word. Under normal circumstances, I would have waited until we could do this with a little more celebration," Miranda's hand was tucked against Andrea's back. Her nails, no longer claws, made light swirls of comfort there. "But our agenda, my agenda, has been moved forward."

"Because of the Ball?" asked Serena.

"Partly. And partly because of the event I just informed you about. The ante has been raised and some Houses are pushing. We are still somewhat under the radar, but that will change, either before the ball or after. I wish us all to be ready."

-TDWP-

"Nigel," Andrea said as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Nigel Kipling remained himself, average in height, somewhat bald, with hair trimmed so close that the color didn't really matter. He still wore rounded spectacles and dressed with a style that was unique, yet professional. Kind brown eyes regarded her with affection and surprise. Her Dragon vision of him took in his coloration and she nodded inwardly as she began to understand. He was a Bronze. And yellow, like Serena. From what she had learned so far, it made some sense. "It's good to see you." She offered him a somber smile, as she pulled back and gave him a little space, but the pleasure in seeing him was evident.

"Six." The head-editor of Details, one of the more prominent Men's magazines, couldn't help his grin. "You've learned how to make an entrance."

"Only from the very best." She took a seat beside him on the couch. "I thought you were out of town."

"When Miranda calls..."

Andrea's smile warmed and her gaze drifted to where Miranda stood, talking to two other Dragons quietly. "Yeah. Tell me about it."

"I know this is forward, but... may I?"

Andrea's attention returned. "May you what?"

He lifted his hand toward her cheek, not quite touching.

"Oh." Andrea cocked her head and asked, very seriously, "Is this a Dragon thing... because, you know... Serena asked the same question."

"It is. Kind of." He dropped his hand and looked a touch sheepish. Then warned her, "If a Dragon you don't know asks, then you shouldn't. It's... hard to explain."

"No. I think I get it. I just wondered." Andrea considered. "I'm still learning all this. I've been reading - slowly - through Miranda's library. It's very complex."

"Thousands of years of history will do that."

"Mm." Andrea considered. "Nigel. You're a friend. The answer is yes."

He sat up a little, and this time touched her cheek, very softly. When he withdrew his hand, his expression, which had been its usual friendly aspect, gained a new element of respect and wonder. "Wow."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Really. You have no idea how rare you are, Lady Andy."

"Not you too."

"You'll have to get used to it."

"Not from you or Serena."

"Especially from us."

"But, Nigel, you are my friends."

"Yes. We are. But we're also your liege persons." Andrea turned away from him, to look at nothing in particular. He sighed and patted her arm. "Fine. Andy. In private. In family. But out there," he tucked his thumb at the door, "It's Lady."

"But that doesn't work," she said. "Out there, in America, there's no Lady this, no Lady that. It sets me too far apart."

Now it was Nigel's turn to sit back. "Oh. I see your point."

"Yeah. On the other hand, I'll get used to it. It just seems... strange, is all." She turned at looked seriously at him. "You wouldn't happen to have a manual about this handy, would you? I need some quick tips, a short cut. Miranda's library is great, but I've looked at so many mystical symbols, dragon innards, and sundry what-the-heck details, that all I'm getting is confused. I need... a cheat sheet."

"I'll see what I can do." Again he patted her shoulder. Then stood up. "Don't go anywhere. Well, out of the building, that is."

Andrea waved her hand not quite dismissively. "Yeah. Yeah." Then she grinned. "Still very good to see you, Nigel. I've missed you."

He grinned back. "And I you."

-TDWP-

Nigel dropped a thick notebook in front of Andrea.

"What's this."

"A list of names, Families and Houses. House spells, specific to Priestly."

"There are House spells?"

"Oh yes. Defensive, Offensive, Fun, Strange. Every House has a unique set that they've either acquired over time, won in battle, or specialized in."

"Wait. Won in battle?"

"Things aren't always peaceful in the magical realm."

"Right. But..."

"Mystical process. Read the book. It explains. The book also contains notes about manners, things to know. I've been gathering this since I was a wee art director. Learn it. Live it."

She clutched to book to her chest. "Oh, I will. Thank you! Thank you so much. You wouldn't have an extra five minutes for coffee would you?"

"Andy, for you, I have an eternity of five minutes."

"Awesome."

-TDWP-

The conversation with Nigel was invigorating and illuminating. Andrea gained a lot from it. She also realized that she had yet another spell that was her favorite. Coffee time was taking on a new meaning. It was with that thought she suddenly grasped the meaning of Starbucks.

"Oh my God. Miranda does this!"

"Does what?" Nigel blinked at her in confusion.

"Starbucks. Coffee-Time. I mean, aside from taste, and she always wanted it so hot..."

"Ah," he said. "The epiphany. Yes. It took me awhile to figure that one out too, since she actually likes her coffee center of the sun hot and will drink it that way. But yes, she does use it."

Andrea gave him the sunshine grin that he'd come to know and love when she was an assistant. He smiled back and glanced at his cup. He hesitated to say it, but thought, forewarned was forearmed. "What you need to watch for, is when it appears as if she stopped using it. When she starts staying late to work..." He raised his hand to stop whatever words were about to come out of Andrea's mouth. "It's a sign that things are strained for her. Either there's too much workload or she's avoiding something..."

"Like what happened with Stephen."

"Yes. A deadline is a deadline, and everyone works hard to reach it, but you now know that Miranda is managing more than just a magazine. The House is too spread out right now, if you ask my opinion, but it's the safest course. She didn't want to draw attention by numbers."

Andrea drew in a breath. "Oh. That... puts her arguments with Stephen in a different light. Did he know?"

Nigel shrugged. "I don't know how he could not and be living with her and the twins, but we Dragons, have means and ways of keeping people from seeing things. Even people close to us."

"Yeah. I figured that part out."

He gave her a paternal look, "Smart girl."

-TDWP-

Later that night, fortified with more understanding about the Dragon side of the world and her new House, Andrea made the phone call that she'd been looking forward to all day. She felt a warm fire of recognition rise in her, as soon as the phone rang. It was picked up before the second ring. "Cruella," she purred, tasting the name of her distant lover. "How has the day treated you?"

"Andy." Somehow Cruella made her name sound even more erotic than usual. Andrea shivered in response. "How delightful to hear from you."

"Would that you were seeing me, or I you, instead." The words came out breathless and hungry. "There are so many things I want to do... with you."

"And does your mate know all the things you want to do, my Andy."

"Oh she wants to do them too. As you well know."

"Yes." Cruella hissed. "Yes. I believe we are all quite clear on the things we want and need." She exhaled, "But, darling, you asked me a specific question and so I shall answer. It has been a most fruitful and surprising day."

"Oh, care to share?"

"Let me just say that, who knew that House cleaning could be so fun?" Cruella chortled in memory. "I've sorted the chaff from the wheat. So many unhappy-to-be-discovered faces. Priceless. They had no idea I knew. Foolish them." The Dragon purred into the phone, "I will say this, Reginald did do me a favor by giving me the perfect excuse to finally, finally be rid of the flies on the walls."

"Poor flies."

"Indeed. Though it did mean losing a few good artists. I was tempted to keep one or two."

"But you chose not to?"

"Darling, one can only carry the keep your enemies close meme so far. And right now, they were much too close. It is now Horace and Jasper's job to manage the feat."

"And Alonzo?" Concern etched Andrea's voice. "What of him."

"He stayed."

"Ah. Good. I know you were worried."

"Speaking of minions and friends, how is your Lily?"

"Better. We're better. It was very good that she was here, during our..." Andrea still wasn't quite sure what to call it, "... experience. She took care of the girls when they got home, kept things peaceful and good. It's not been easy between her and Miranda. Because, you know. But Miranda was pleased that she was there."

"Miranda pleased, is something we strive for."

"Well," purred Andrea, "she is certainly worth it."

-TDWP-

Lily paused before she stepped into the family room. Miranda was there and no one else. She was unbending from some task performed by the Christmas tree. Lily stared down at the small package in her hand, one intended for the stack that was slowly growing under the tree. She considered actually turning around. She really tried not to be in Miranda's presence alone; the editor vibed a quiet warning every time they were in each other's company and it only compounded when they shared rare alone space.

On the other hand, it was silly to be afraid of the woman who had opened up her home. The sense that they were having a silent, ongoing conversation of "you hurt Andy and if you do it again..." lingered between them. It was part of that trust thing.

She stood at the door too long. Miranda's brusque, "Are you going to continue to block the entry way or should I plan on the others using a window?"

Lily compressed her lips into the form of a smile, but didn't quite manage to hide the worry and fret in her eyes. "I was just..." She lifted the package, lightly, and indicated the tree. Then, scooted forward to place it on one of the other boxes.

She was grateful nothing fell or toppled or decided to pick that moment to change the course of history.

When she rose again, Miranda was staring at her intently. Then she nodded, as if she saw something within Lily.

"I guess, I'll just..."

"Lillian, if I may have a word with you."

Lily stalled, and glanced briefly at the egress and then back at Miranda. "Uhm. Sure." She nodded.

"Will you sit with me?"

The young woman glanced at the couch, then started toward it. She sat down, feeling a sudden need to be prim. She placed both hands on her knees, waiting, as Miranda slid into an elegant sitting position.

Miranda did not let the air linger in silence. "I have been meaning to speak with you for some time now."

Lily forced the corners of her lips into a compressed smile and she hummed an acknowledgment. She furtively looked at the door again, then deliberately turned herself so that she was facing Miranda.

"By now you know that I hold certain things sacred. My family is very important to me. Andrea is important to me."

"She's important to me too."

"Is she?" Miranda said. "I seem to recall a time when she wasn't, quite."

"That was... a mistake." Lily said. She looked away from Miranda at the Christmas tree, as if seeking words or meaning there. "I should have realized it was, but at the time, I wasn't seeing the bigger picture. I was caught up in the romance, in the drama. I don't know. In wanting to feel justified about it all."

"Were you? Justified?"

Lily shook her head, still not looking at Miranda.

"What are your intentions toward Andrea, Lillian?" The question was asked without heat or threat.

"I want to be her friend. I want us back." Lillian turned. "As friends. True friends."

"Do you know now what it takes to be a true friend?"

Lily flinched, and she regarded Miranda, taking in the silver hair, the blue eyes, the stern visage. "I'd like to think I learned, yes."

"Don't let it happen again, Lillian. Don't break her heart."

"I won't," Lily whispered. "I can't promise I won't hurt her feelings, but I'll never... I don't want to lose my friend again. I need her. I won't break her heart, like I did. I won't make her regret being my friend. I promise."

"She needs you as well. Which is why we are having this conversation." A warning seemed to flood the editor's aspect. "I won't warn you again. Dire things will happen if you break your oath."

Lily swallowed sharply, and nodded, believing it. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

Miranda searched her face, then nodded back. Then, as if the world had changed, she smiled a smile that was warm. "Thank you for taking care of the girls, while we were indisposed. I know they appreciated it, as I do."

Lily blinked, felt the weight lift off her shoulders, then smiled. "Oh well, you know, it was easy. They're awesome kids. Cara was here for most of it, anyway. And Andrea asked."

-TDWP-

Time seemed to have snuck up on her. Only days before Christmas and she still hadn't made it to a store or even looked at Amazon. A stack of presents was building under the tree, which had been decorated with Lily's artful assistance and two very willing Dragon Kits. Of course, Miranda had a secret weapon in her arsenal of gift seeking, but Andrea did not. The younger woman wondered, briefly, how it was possible that it all happened so fast. One day Christmas was weeks away and the next... well, here she was, frantically worrying about how she might accomplish her shopping.

"Lil's, I don't know how this happened, but I'm swamped."

"How about this, you let me handle the girls' presents and focus on Miranda's."

"And Cruella's."

"And... Cruella's. I guess, she's your new BFF?"

Andrea did not react to the hint of jealousy in the question, but she did answer. "She's important to me, Lily."

Lily sighed, "Yeah. I get that."

"She's not a replacement friend, Lily. She's mine." Andrea blinked, and tried to figure out how to manage that little slip. Except the words had been said so forcefully there was no real way to disguise the meaning.

"I... whoa. Andy," Lily started. "But, um, aren't you with Miranda. I mean, you guys look so happy."

"Lily, we are happy." Andrea raised her hand to stall her friend. "I... wow... I guess it's time. Look, we need to talk. About some things. But I need your word, Lily. And I mean old school spit in the hand, word, that you will hold what I say close."

"Okay. This must be big to invoke secret handshake oaths."

"Will you do it?"

Lily couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. She then spit in her palm and held it out. "I will if you will."

Andrea grinned back, and spit in her hand, and grabbed her friend's hand and held to it strongly, before letting go. "Let's go grab some coffee. This is going to take a few."

-TDWP-

Oddly, it wasn't the Dragon thing that threw Lily. She had always suspected that there was more to the world than what she could see. It was the coffee-time magic that shook her. "I can see that dragons are real, but seriously, magic using coffee?"

"Well, any liquid in a container really, but look at it from a ... I guess you can't really call it a logical point of view, but it makes sense when you tie all the pieces together. I mean, think of all the times that time has slipped by when you drink your coffee and work. It's the same thing only... a little more... amazing."

"Yes. Amazing. But when I think of all the time I could have been saving... I mean, if I'd known about this sooner?" Lily's gaze went heavenward, "Paintings wouldn't take as much time."

"Yes, Lily. They would." Andrea cautioned. "Time is still moving for you. You'd just ... age faster."

"Oh! Oh. Yeah, that would be bad." Lily lifted the cup to her lips. "Still. Nifty trick."

Now her friend grinned back. "Tell me about it."

"So. Lady Andy." Lily drew the title out in drawl. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as her friend sputtered. But she went straight for the point. "Tell me more about this Bond thing. I want to know everything." She waggled her brows. "And I do mean everything. Give."

-TDWP-

"So." Lily leaned back in the chair, idly stirring her spoon, "the Ball."

"Yes."

"You're inviting me."

"Yes."

"As your minion." Lily's eyes sparkled with amusement, as she made the word sound all sorts of ominous.

"Oh my god. I knew I shouldn't have told you that."

The artist reached out and grabbed Andrea's hand. Still smiling, she said, "Yes. Andy, you should have. It means a lot to me that you trust me with this. With us, as friends." Then her grin turned slightly evil, "And I as your minion value that."

Andrea dropped her head down to her neck and shook her head lightly. "Gah."

"Okay, I'll behave. But only because that's the miniony thing to do. I'm sure there are minion rules I need to follow. Perhaps even a Minions Union."

"You're not going to let this rest, are you."

"Nope. I mean, of course I'll pause, and let you get all relaxed, and then, it'll come out. Minion!" She spread out her hands in a burst of energy. Lily's chortle was positively wicked.

-TDWP-

"So this notebook, you're memorizing it?"

"Learn it. Live it. That's what Nigel said. And trust me, I need to know how now."

"Is it something you can share? Because, Andy, I don't know any of this either." Lily raised her brows meaningfully and waved her hand to encompass the whole world. "Wouldn't it be easier if we learned it together. It'd be just like school. We always did good as partners."

"True. I'll ask Miranda."

"Okay, I'll wait." She paused long enough for Andy to almost get out of the room. "Like a good minion."

"Sweet Potato Pie!"

Lily just grinned and pointed. She knew she'd scored when she got Andrea to start on the childhood cusses.

"Okay, for that, you get to come with me." Andrea pointedly waved Lily toward the door. "You first."

-TDWP-

Miranda stared at both of the young women standing before her in the sitting room. They looked a little bit like guilty children, waiting to spring a reveal. She waited and watched as they glanced at each other meaningfully. Then, because it amused her to do so, she addressed Andrea and said, "I see you've revealed Us to your friend."

Lily grinned abruptly and looked as if she were going to say something, but Andrea bumped her shoulder with her own. She didn't stop that wide smile, but whatever she was going to say, was paused.

Andrea spoke then. "Miranda, we need a game call. Can Lily read some of the books? Well, in particular one, that I've found helpful. But, we both think it would be helpful if she could."

"You wish me to act as arbiter."

"You're Queen of the House. I'm just..."

"My dear Lady, Andrea." The way she said Lady had the effect of sending a blush from the top of her head to places hither.

Lily leaned back and looked at her friend, still grinning. "Miranda, you do have a way with her, don't you?"

"I have my way with her, as often as I am able. And the answer is yes."

This time it was Lily's turn to blush and her skin darkened to a delightful hue. But she held the smile and the twinkle in her eye. She leaned over, said audibly, but quietly to Andrea "I'm a minion!"

"And, you're now both excused." Miranda waved her hand, in an 'away with you' gesture. "That's all." She smiled at their leaving, as she heard the quiet giggles.

-TDWP-

Christmas eve arrived with a smattering of snow; just enough to cover the ground, but not enough to force anyone to stay home if they didn't want to. Or if they had other obligations. Miranda, of course, was one of those people with obligations. It was not the first time she wished she could simply stay home, especially now that she had so much more at home to come to, but she had to make appearances to at least three parties before she could return to her haven.

She turned from side to side, examining the effect of the shimmering burgundy gown. It covered one shoulder, revealed another, but both arms were technically covered; one in sheer lace, one in the thicker cloth. Warmth would be provided by the accompanying burgundy wrap, delicately lined with spun gold and green. Burgundy Prada heels designed specifically for the dress adorned her feet. They would only be seen in glimpses, but they added a very nice touch. She wore dangling earrings, shining gold beads that created a droplet effect, which complimented the line of her neck.

She spotted Andrea, who leaned against the door-frame, arms folded and soft look upon her face. Their gaze connected. The younger woman smiled. "You look beautiful." She walked towards Miranda. "You always do, of course. So I guess the real word is, amazing. Or maybe glorious."

"Glorious?"

"Mm. Yes." Andrea finally reached her mate and brushed her fingers against the hollow of her shoulder and neck. "Delicious." She gazed hungrily at Miranda's lips, and sighed a little. "Very hard to resist."

"Think of rewards to come." Miranda stepped away, needing the distance. "If I could take you with me I would." The only reason Miranda accepted that Andrea needed to stay behind was the issue of safety. It was one thing to have her strolling the hallways of Runway. It was quite another to present her at events previous to the Ball.

"I know." Andrea sighed. "I do."

"It will only be for a short while."

"Nigel's escorting you?"

"This time, yes. He's a known friend."

"Tell him to keep his paws off."

"Andrea."

"I'm kidding." The young woman began to head out their closet. "Mostly. Don't worry. I'll tell him myself."

She stopped when she felt the hint of lips upon her cheek. Then she turned and grinned. "I love you too."

"I will be home as soon as I can."

"And I will be waiting."

-TDWP-

The first party went by quickly. Miranda made her appearance, held a glass of champagne long enough to say hello to those who needed to hear it from her. Then, she and Nigel made their exits.

Miranda was the kind of person that was constantly under observation, either by the paparazzi or by persons more sinister or just individual invested in keeping track of the latest style or politic. The first party, which had been a smaller affair had left little room for journalistic shenanigans or spying. The second event, however, was much larger and more public. Both she and Nigel noted that there were more spies and watchers present; there were always three or four, from different Houses, at every event that she attended, but now, between them, they spotted at least a half dozen.

Nigel leaned over and whispered in her ear as he replaced her glass with a fresh one, "You were right."

"They're anxious. The Ball is only days away."

Nigel nodded and took a sip from his own glass before guiding Miranda carefully past another guest. He nodded pleasantly and repositioned, making sure that he was between Miranda and the other person. He was very aware of the politics. Miranda's refusal to align herself or her House raised flags. He understood why she refused to play by their rules beyond social pleasantries. After all, only a handful of Houses had demonstrated loyalty at both the time of crisis and at her first challenge when she came of age. But he worried about how the other Houses might be reading her, what assumptions they might be making and what effort they might put into ensuring their own agenda at the continued cost of House Priestly. If they saw her as a wild card, it wasn't a good thing.

The arrival of the invitations had many on edge, as the Ball was often a time of political shift. They would be watching Miranda carefully for that alone, but Nigel knew that there was more to the story. Most thought the reason that Miranda's original bid for recognition had been solely based on age and weakness of the House. He thought it was also about all that treasure that had been looted or rather, awarded. Miranda hadn't yet expressed an interest in the return of some of the more priceless items, but that did not mean it wasn't in the back of some Dragons' minds.

On the other hand, Miranda being Miranda was threat enough to many people, Dragon or otherwise.

They smiled their way until it was time to exit and made their final respects to the hosts. Nigel's back prickled with the awareness of being watched. As they headed to the towncar he said, "Maybe we should skip the next one..."

"No." She left no room for argument and they sat in pensive silence through the trip to the last event. This one was bigger than the last, brighter than the last. Even the Christmas tree was taller than the last. The line into the party parted for them like the red sea. Everyone knew Miranda didn't wait. She went in like she usually did; as a power to be reckoned with, regal, with hints of danger and pleasantry. She could smile even when people threw mental daggers her way. It was a trait he admired, and tried to emulate; not always successfully.

It was worse here, he thought, as he glanced around and tried to mentally count the neutral or at least kind-of friendly faces of those Houses that were attending. He didn't spot many and he realized why she had refused to not attend. It would have been a sign of weakness.

So he straightened his shoulders and smiled and remembered Andrea's words, "Don't let her out of your sight." He had thought it amusingly protective and now, he wondered if the Lady had known something he had not. Except, he couldn't see how she would have. It's not like she knew about these things all that much.

Yet, here they were, and he had a foreboding feeling building in his gut. He glanced at his watch more than once, until Miranda had given him a look so pointed he'd very nearly given in to the impulse to chuck the device into the nearest garbage can. He'd willed himself away from that urge. It was an expensive watch.

"We'll be leaving soon," Miranda said not too much later and he felt his shoulders relax just a little. Until she added, "I've seen what needed to be seen." He suddenly realized he was not the only one doing an accounting. It worried him.

"Miranda...," he started, then let the matter drop. He suddenly realized why they hadn't brought the Emilys and the thought made him both proud of the trust Miranda placed in him, and want to go home. The sooner they left, the happier he'd be.

He shivered a little with relief by the time Miranda signaled her readiness to leave. They made their way to the exit and his heart was lifting with each step. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed individuals moving from where they were standing, on an intercept course. Miranda's hand was on his arm and he intended to guide them more quickly towards the door. She squeezed his forearm and pulled in a different direction. He managed not to mentally cuss.

The place where the event was being held had several foyers and small conversational pockets and mini rooms. She led him to one of those, one near an exit, but not quite at one. "Take a seat, Nigel." She whispered in his ear. "Try to look comfortable."

"Oh, so we're going to test my acting skills tonight? How exciting."

She tisked, "Nigel." But her eyes lightened with amusement. He took a seat that allowed him to focus outward, with its back against the wall. She stood beside him, managing to look casual and interested. It was as if they had been holding a conversation and had only just paused, when three individuals entered the space. One was a Black-Silver Dragon, a House Guardian of some sort, the other two were were-creatures.

"Ah. Hope we aren't interrupting." The speaker was the Dragon, a lean, tall man.

Miranda merely looked at them. It was Nigel who picked up the conversational thread. "Not at the moment," he replied. He was surprised at how cool his voice sounded.

"Well, good. Good." The two were-beings took up position just behind the Dragon, who looked like bodybuilders, folded their arms and strove to look intimidating. They successfully blocked the exit. "I hope you'll forgive me for not introducing myself. You may think of me as a humble messenger."

"As you wish," Nigel said. He did not dare look at Miranda, but paused long enough to let her answer, if she wanted. Then he said, "Since we're talking, what is the message."

"Ah, to the point. A man after my own heart."

Nigel couldn't resist letting his eyes wander the territory, "Perhaps at another time."

The other Dragon cleared his throat. "The House Alcantra has been tasked with the job of seeing to it that things run smoothly at the Ball."

"Is there any particular reason that things wouldn't?" Nigel inquired. He thought about the Houses he knew. House Alcantra was tiny, with a unique clan structure. They only took members as adults, and so had no kits at all, but a handful of young, dangerous youths. It was headed by one ancient Dragon and their Vampire consort. The House was well known for its "security," offerings. And as he thought about it, he was a little surprised that some House hadn't tried utilizing their services to try to intimidate House Priestly before. Maybe it just hadn't been important enough before.

"If you will let me finish."

"Beg pardon."

"To that end, House Alcantra will be taking two guests, from - specifically - House Priestly." Nigel restrained himself from leaping out of the chair and at the Dragon, who continued, almost blithely, "You understand, that it's nothing personal. It's just insurance. You play nice, and no one bothers the girls."

Miranda's voice was oh so carefully modulated, nearly conversational. "Am I to understand you think it wise to threaten my daughters."

The Dragon offered a shark-like smile. "Oh it's no threat. Agents are already at the father's house to procure them."

"I see." Miranda's gaze narrowed. She did not mention that the girls were nowhere near their father's that night. This year they were spending Christmas at home. It was spontaneous choice that she as rapidly becoming more and more glad about., "Are you merely a messenger then or do you have some authority?"

"I have a little authority, but I am not the planner."

"Ah, so you understand what the end result will be." The air chilled in the room, and power seemed to rise from the ground at her feet. She bared her teeth, displaying the sharp points.

The weres moved back at the change in her aspect. The messenger held very still, but said, "Everyone knows House Priestly is toothless. You may be able to banish reporters to the end of the world, but you haven't killed anyone yet."

Miranda's tone remained conversational, "That you know about."

Nigel spotted the falter in the Dragon's eyes.

Miranda continued, "I'd say that no one really knows what I am capable of; not when it comes to what is mine. Call off the dogs while you may, House Alcantra. Most know I am not prone to mercy after the fact."

He jutted his chin forward and crossed his arms in an unconsciously protective movement. Then said, "I can't do that."

"Pity."

"For you, at least." Nigel added blithely as he followed his Queen.

-TDWP-

It was all so civilized. Once the message was delivered, everyone left as if nothing earth shattering had been said or done. He and Miranda walked out of the event smiling and waving. The Black-Silver Dragon and his friends went back to the party, as if they were going to stay awhile.

In the car, Nigel made the first call. The cellphone rang and rang until it switched to the voicemail service. "Jeffrey, this is a red alert. House Alcantra is on the hunt for the girls. You know what that means. Hope you're not home. Head to a safe house if you can." Nigel glanced at Miranda and then away.

Wordlessly, Miranda began sliding out of her dress in the car. She toed off her shoes, and took off everything that might inhibit her. Earrings too. When she did speak it was to say, "Seek refuge..."

"No," he said, allowing no argument. He began unbuttoning his shirt. "Not tonight. Tonight I'm your bodyguard and we both know where they're going once they figure out that the girls aren't with Jeffrey." Nigel realized he had never actually seen Miranda take on Dragon form. He'd sometimes wondered if she ever did.

"Nigel."

"Andrea said to watch over you. I'm watching over you."

Miranda blinked at him, then turned away and looked out at the passing scenery. "Find a quiet place Roy and park. I won't be needing the car tonight."

"Miranda," Roy started.

"I will need your skills soon enough, Roy. You may tell your clan... our clan... that their services are needed now. I suppose I must bow to the inevitable and allow you all to join me as you wished in the beginning. I just... the sacrifice, Roy. There will be loss. I so hoped to avoid..." The thought of losing parts of her family made her insides ache. But she knew those elves who had taken her in and raised her as their own would not stand by and merely watch.

"I will take care of it."

Miranda placed the second call. The cellphone rang and rang and went to voice message. "Andrea." She paused, her voice thick with worry, "Show the girls the closet. I'm coming home now. See you there."

Nigel glanced over. Miranda shook her head and let the phone drop to the floor of the car. She had guessed her phone had been blocked by magical means, but hoped that perhaps a message might get through anyway.

-TDWP-

Miranda once explained to Andrea that shape-shifting was part of a Dragon's abilities, but she had not had opportunity to illuminate her mate further. She had meant to, but she had been enjoying the slow reveal and watching Andrea's adaptation to each additional fact. It had been fascinating and pleasurable. She would regret the loss of the intimacy of it.

Transformation for a Dragon was a sensual experience, one that was enjoyable and, in right context, highly erotic. Shape-shifting for the weres was something entirely different; painful and somewhat violent. The only saving grace was that, much like childbirth, the pain was forgotten once complete. But Dragons did not forget their transformations, each one had a unique signature, a memory code of its own, that could be tapped and remembered and valued and learned from; it added to their experience.

Debate raged about whether Transformation, as the Dragons called it, was wholly genetic or wholly magical. Miranda found the debate useless, as neither were right. A Dragon was a Dragon and that was the simplest explanation. Though she thought one gardener came closest to describing the effect in terms of flowers opening and revealing. A programmer she knew had expressed it as compressing and decompressing. Neither were an exact description, but the tantalizing link between them explained the somewhat mystifying abilities that Dragons had in regards to their shapes and sizes.

Dragons could assume anything in the range of biped to full dragon form. They could do so in "bits and pieces," growing in expertise as they aged. Thus, Miranda could control whether her eyes changed color or her nails became talons or her teeth lengthened or her tail was revealed. She had so been looking forward to showing Andrea the tail, among other interesting things a Dragon could do. Now she worried about how her Mate would see her, or respond to her, once she saw the full aspect, without any true preparation, and truly understood that to be a Dragon was not about magical tricks nor at all metaphorical.

With a sigh, she stepped barefoot onto the frigid blacktop surface of the parking lot. She welcomed the jolt of it, absorbed the cold as refreshing. Then, after briefly glancing back at Nigel who was getting out on the other side, she began to run. For a few short moments, the slap of her feet could be heard on the ground, and then it was silence. She rose in the air, carried by wings that had sprung up and out from her back and shoulders. The wings expanded with each flap, becoming longer and fuller and more powerful in their stroke. Her body slid through the change as she moved from Human to Dragon. Then she grew her size. She made minute decisions that would have impact, choosing a smaller shell, nearer the size of a large horse. She could have gone even larger, but Miranda wanted the flexibility, the maneuverability. The speed. As a larger Dragon she could cover more distance with less effort, but if she had to move between buildings, the impact was noticeable no matter how she charmed it.

As she changed, her white-gold aspect became incredibly apparent as protective scaling shimmered across her skin. The moonlight made her shine like a light in the dark. Her scales were soft, flexible plating, both sensitive and hard enough to stop bullets or most sharp things. The sensitivity allowed her to experience the wind, with the drawback being that though mostly invulnerable, she still felt the strikes; one could not have the pleasure without accepting the pain also. By the time she achieved what she was trying for, she was long, sinewy, sleek. She flew in serpentine motions, nearly swimming through the air, wings to her back when at rest, then flapping out to push forward in great bursts of speed. Powerful thighs and arms helped push her forward. If she skimmed a building, she pushed away with great forcefulness, adding to the gathering speed.

She glanced back and up, noting that Nigel had chosen a much larger shape. He appeared to be a burnished gold, the bronze shimmering in the yellow of his plate, gave him shine. He had bulked up, taken on a muscular and surprisingly dangerous aspect. His hands, feet and wingtips sported huge talons, and his jaws were full of bright, large, pointy teeth. His wings and tail were massive, compensating for his size. He rose high above her, only outpacing because each flap of his wings took him farther up.

She kept closer to the ground, and her head swivelling as she watched for danger. She heard howls on the distant wind, ahead and behind. She couldn't yet tell if they were being shadowed. She swept cold air in front of her, blowing snow as a form of cover and shield. As she passed by, those pedestrians still out pulled their coats tighter and looked around to discover where the chill wind had come from.

As in most big cities, there were massive charms and wards in place to help keep the people calm during times of magical crisis. Battles of enormous proportions could happen, buildings could be knocked down and the news agencies would run a story about a gas leak gone wrong or the age of a buildings impact on durability. Those with sight might stay and gawk, but those without remained, mostly, oblivious. Unless they should happen to be caught up in it; after all a person can't ignore when they are personally being chased by something from the other world.

Speaking of such events, however, if one survived, did not lend itself to immediate belief. Buffy fans among those with sight called this the Sunnydale effect.

Thus, most did not see the Dragons. Both she and Nigel had engaged protections. However, this did not mean that their passage went entirely unnoted. Those magical beings who had sense and no desire to trifle with Dragons or their troubles, hid themselves away or ventured back indoors while they still could.

They drew closer to home, and she passed by a long plated glass window. In the silver darkness she saw a large group of shadows, hunched and prickly and chasing. The window revealed what she could not see and she understood that she and Nigel were not the only ones to invoke disguise. More, the were-pack were much closer than she had realized, and far too close to her home for her comfort. So she pivoted on her wing, and flew back towards the windowed store, a Safeway.

==^-=

She needed to see them, so after she turned, she blew out a breath of fire, which bloomed, bright and potent against the dark. It scorched the ground, threw shadows from anything that was possible to be backlit. She spotted them turning to follow and grinned. She heard a noise, a set of popping sounds, felt the punch of bullets bounce off. It stung and annoyed her. But she resisted the urge to roar and tease them in the middle of the road. Instead flying and then sliding to the wider parking lot.

She skid across the surface, and turned to face them, grounded on all fours. This time she did roar, a challenge to come and get her. And they did, jeering and calling all the way. When they drew close enough, she blew out fire against them, it formed a ball and soared into the air. That ball of flame landed accurately producing screams of outrage and burning. The magic that had been hiding the pack disappeared.

The were pack was composed of all kinds; wolf, big cat, big rat, and others like unto or unnameable. It was one of the largest she'd ever seen and she recognized them for what they were; an army. If they had been attacking singularly, they wouldn't have stood a chance. They were carrying weapons, which added to the possibility of their success. She reasoned that there were probably even more which weren't seen. It was obvious that they split into groups to try to divide and conquer. She knew in her heart that another group must be well on its way toward her home or even already there. House Alcantra was making its move boldly.

She spotted a missile launcher, saw it being lifted. She waited, knowing that it was possible that the weapon had been enspelled, which would be very bad. Magical weapons were a much more dire threat, but even if it were not she knew it would be painful, but not deadly. Fire did not do much to a Dragon. It was the impact that carried weight.

She wanted them closer and blinder. She flapped her wings and the snow on the ground billowed up and out like a fog. And then, there was Nigel coming in from behind. He plowed into them, talons out. He scooped and lifted two, throwing them at the walls, toward Miranda. One was catapulted through the glass into the supermarket. The breaking crash and tinkle of the glass was a counterpoint to the harsher screams of terror. One landed against the brick, where bones and body broke and the yelping scream cut off in a strangle of pain.

She pushed off, roared into the group, snaking around them and snapping and rending and letting claw, teeth and prehensile tail do their damage. The creatures attacked, thinking to overpower with numbers. She relished the attempt, blew out a holy ring of fire that lifted, expanded and settled around the fight. It trapped them all in there with her, not that they realized it yet.

Blood and body parts began to fill the parking lot and the pack of creatures began to split apart, to run. Only to find their way blocked by the ring of fire or Nigel. Who was actually now much more dangerous than she. He grabbed them in whole bites, lifting them in the air and snapping them up with powerful jaws. Now and then fire would burst from his mouth, covering his victim before they fell back down to crunch into his teeth. It was a terrible and awesome thing.

The blood spilled in battle sang to her and her fear and ire transformed. She sat back on her haunches, lifting her hands and crushing fingers to palms, she yanked back, summoning the weres that were left through the fire and smoke. No escape for them. It was started. It would be finished.

Only the strongest and the quickest had lived through that first round. She smiled at one she recognized from the party encounter earlier. "Not so toothless now, are we?"

Then she jumped into the midst of them, and really let them see her teeth.

-TDWP-

The last thing Andrea expected when she opened the door after incessant buzzing, was to see her friend Lily and an accountant. She stared at them both. The porch light made them seem a little yellow, but she could see them very clearly. Doug was a taller than Andrea, dark haired, pale skinned, hazel-eyed, pleasant faced young man. He wore glasses and designer suits. He was astonishingly good at his job and he had been one of Andrea's best friends prior to the big break up.

Lily smiled benignly, her hand to the young man's back, as if she were holding him in place and keeping him from running. He could hardly look at Andrea, but when he did finally manage, it was with a tremulous smile.

"I kept thinking, what can I get the girl who can have almost everything now?," Lily said. She looked at her friends, with hope in her eyes. "And then I thought, maybe she'd love to have her friend back for Christmas."

Andrea was left a little speechless. It took her a second or two to recover from the surprise. She couldn't quite smile yet, but she could be pleasant. "Doug. Wow. Long time." She leaned forward, and opened her arms.

He wasn't expecting it, but he reached back and hugged her tightly against him. He whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"I missed you," she whispered back. "I needed you."

"I know. I suck. I couldn't cope. Not with any of it. If it makes you feel better, I wasn't talking with them either."

"Oh Doug. It was never meant to be an either-or. Can you cope now?"

"I'm trying."

"Yeah. Me too."

They held each other for long tight squeezing seconds.

"Alright, break it up. It's freezing out here."

The two reunited friends pulled away from each other and smiled their first real smiles at one another. Lily patted Doug's shoulder and said, "Hey. Don't forget to finish it. She gets the whole gift. Tell her what I told you to."

Doug blinked at Lily and then said, "Oh. Right." Then he took on the aspect of a cheeky tv announcer, "I'm Doug Templeton and I want to be," He clapped his hands together and then pointed at Andrea, "... your minion." Then he put his fingertips to his head and bowed slightly as if tipping his hat.

Lily grinned at Andrea, "Now, I'm a minion recruiter."

Andrea stared at the both of them totally flabbergasted, and then burst out laughing. "I should make you both stand out here, and think about what you've done, but you'd only plot together."

Lily grinned back, "You know it. More where that came from. Wait till you see the DVDs I bought us for Christmas."

"I wait with dread." It was as if she said a trigger word. A shiver ran down her spine and awareness, of something feeling different caught her attention. She would have, in her old life, simply assigned it to Doug's unexpected presence. But, now, she wanted to pay more attention to the sensation. Andrea glanced out past them, trying understand what had sent that signal. It wasn't Miranda. It wasn't Cruella. But it was something that tasted of fear and wariness. She wasn't sure what it might be, but the feeling was like a hum, or a distant tremble of thunder. Andrea peered out into the darkness and could not see anything past the porch light. Then she switched her vision. She still didn't see anything unusual, but that feeling stuck with her. She smiled at her friends, as if she hadn't suddenly had the shivers roll up her spine, "Why don't you come inside and you can tell me how you've been." It would be safer indoors. And she could be near her phone, in case.

Doug grinned, "Look at me, I'm entering Miranda Priestly's House." He entered without needing a second invitation.

As Lily stepped in, Andrea leaned over and whispered, "You didn't really tell him everything did you?"

Lily leaned back and replied in sotto voice, "No. I didn't tell him anything, actually. That's your job. My job was to get him here. I just wanted to see your reaction. Which was awesome, by the way."

"Thanks for bringing him by."

"It's what we minions do."


	9. Chapter 9

TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 9

Introducing Doug to the girls had been a sweet experience for Andrea. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about everything, but it was nice to see him and experience his wonder at being in their home. He greeted the twins with dignity, then, when they invited him to game with them, hunkered in for the challenge.

Lily helped Andrea bring in refreshments; a simple collection of drinks, chips, dips and sweets that might have caused an eyeroll from Miranda. However, they made a happy addition to the evening. The girls would be staying up to wait for their mom, and while they did so, they would have good, fun adult company.

It was enjoyable enough that Andrea was able to set aside that momentary worry from before and simply be. Thus, awareness that something was really wrong, snuck up on her and took her by surprise.

-TDWP-

The crash of shattered glass startled all of them.

"Stay here," Andrea commanded, leaping off the couch. She grabbed her phone and tossed it to Lily. "Wait two minutes. If you don't hear from me, call Miranda. If she's not there, call Serena."

"Not Emily?"

"Emily is at Serena's."

"Gotcha."

"What about the cops," Doug said.

Andrea flicked a glance at Lily, "We don't know if we can use them yet. Lily, you remember our talk about the closet?"

"Yes..."

"If you don't hear from me in four minutes, take the girls and Doug up to the closet and show them around," Andrea said calmly. "Lock the door behind you."

"Let me come with you," Doug offered, starting to stand up. "It might be nothing, but two people are better than one." He put his hand in his pocket and then drew it out, "Plus, I have a phone too."

Lily nodded sharply at Andrea, who simply didn't respond, but rather ran out the door and down the stairs. Doug followed, slower, but steady.

The met at the bottom of the stairs. She spotted the problem area right away.

She did not turn on the light, but could see by the combined light from the hallway and moonlight that a stone lay in the middle of the floor in the parlor. Glass was scattered all over. "Cara is going to be so pissed," Andrea commented. She started to walk around the object, and moved towards the window to examine the break. "Who would do this?"

"Don't touch it," Doug said. He stayed in the hallway, trying to decide whether he should risk opening the door or not.

"I won't." Andrea said. She found the shattered window, mostly by the cold air that was filtering through and into the house. She started to look out the window, but hadn't quite gotten to it.

They were both startled by a shout from somewhere across the street. "Send us the girls and no one gets hurt."

-TDWP-

Oddly, Andrea had been afraid, but as soon as those words slid across her consciousness, she forgot to be. Whatever was on her face must have held the answer she did not give, because Doug instinctively stepped back and away from her. "Andy?"

She smiled and it wasn't a nice smile. "Don't worry Doug. They can't get in." She did not add the mental, 'not yet.' It wouldn't have done her friend any good. She just carried on, "Whoever they are. Would you go upstairs and tell Lily to make that call? She knows what to do."

"Andy. I don't want to leave you alone."

These days Andrea never really felt alone, but she understood what Doug was trying to convey. She looked at the broken window, and then at her friend who chose now to be heroic. Her smile warmed. "Okay, so we both go up."

-TDWP-

"Serena said to hold tight," Lily reported as she and the girls met them in the hall.

Andrea briefly explained what they saw and started to say what had been shouted, but Caroline said, "We heard." She gave a delicate shiver.

"No one is touching you or Cassidy on my watch," Andrea growled softly. Doug did a slight double take, but everyone else drew comfort from the firmness of the young woman's reply. "Okay, no sense dawdling. You know how Miranda gets when that happens."

Lily said, "She's not even here."

"She'd know." Andrea and the twins chorused.

Everyone started towards the master bedroom. It was strangely quiet, as they neither hurried nor slowed. When they arrived, they single-filed into the room.

"Okay, everyone," Andrea said. "We don't know how long this will be. Now is the time to go, if you gotta. Caroline first, then Cassidy, then Lily, then Doug, then Me." The journalist jerked her head at Lily and Doug, "I'm just going to be looking down there to see if I can see anything."

"Why haven't we called the police again?" Doug asked, still feeling confused about many things; not the least of which was why he docilely got in line at Andrea's command.

"Because it's a Dragon thing," Cassidy said impatiently. Doug offered half-hearted laugh as if she'd made a joke. She stared at him for a moment like he was a clueless adult. He looked at Lily, who was not paying attention to that conversation, but rather to the woman who was standing at the side of the window, carefully looking through the curtains.

"Andy. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking, I'm the Lady of the House, Lily. You know what that means."

Lily started to reply, but closed her mouth. She did know what it meant and suddenly all those jokes about being a minion took on a much more serious cast. Not that, once committed, she hadn't been entirely serious. They studied together, shared knowledge. They both poured over Nigel's notebook, then they split parts of the library. Andrea, naturally, took history and Dragon-lore. Lily looked for topics that seemed ... minion-y. If they encountered something they thought the other would enjoy, they shared it. Both of them at least skimmed the easier books on magic. But it had only really been a little while, hardly any time really, to try to adjust to these new ideas. It was overwhelming from the beginning, and Doug knew nothing of this at all.

Andrea continued, "Just... whoever it is, they're out there. I can't see them from here, but I know it. I can't just do nothing."

"If I said I disagree?"

"Wouldn't stop me."

"What are you planning on?"

Andrea shrugged. "Stalling."

"Andy..."

"Lily..."

It was as if they were having a speedy mind reading conversation where one of them said something along the lines of, "You'll be staying here." And the other was replying, "Make me," along with thoughts of, "Don't do this" and thoughts of, "But I gotta." And there was swirl of emotion that Doug was trying to keep up with, that only got more complicated when Andrea turned and stared hard at him.

"Do you still carry?" Doug was one of those gay men who thought going without protection was lack of foresight. He had a concealed carry license and he used it. He was a mild man, but he had always been who he was and knew that not everyone carried kindness as a light in the heart like Andrea.

He spoke firmly, with the knowledge of his limitations. "I am not getting into a gun battle with unknown quantities of people."

"But do you have it?"

It was Andrea's expression, he thought. It was like he was compelled to answer. "Yes."

"Good. Doug you'll be staying with Caroline and Cassidy."

"What? What about...?"

"You heard me and you heard them. You're our last line of real defense. And I am trusting the twins with you because I know you will do your best to keep them safe if I can't."

Her trust settled like an imperfect weight upon him. Absolution, but at the possible cost of loss. Just as Caroline exited the bathroom and Cassidy was about to enter, he said, "Shit." He looked at the twins. "Sorry."

"We've heard worse." Cassidy shrugged and said, then she went in for her turn.

-TDWP-

In the privacy of the bathroom, Andrea faced her choices. She could panic now and let it out in a swarm of quick tears. Or she could try and reach out for her mate. One thing she knew was that if Lily got a hold of Serena, the phone option was not available.

She concentrated and switched to the vision that allowed her to see the mark of her bond with Miranda. She touched the mark lightly, felt a thrum of energy at her fingertips and strove to work past panic into feeling her Dragon. It seemed like it took forever to center enough, but once she was able, she imagined extending her hand, mentally following that thread to find her mate.

She was overwhelmed with a vision of fire, a sensation of flying, of hurting and the urgent desire crush her enemies and break them. She saw dark shadows, heard howling and baying and heard gunfire. She bit back a shout of outrage and fear, clasping her hands to her mouth so it wouldn't carry into the other room. If the necessity of protecting the girls weren't so imperative she would have gone after Miranda. The urge to protect her was massively strong, almost overwhelmingly so. Andrea crouched down abruptly, dropping her hands to the floor, fists clenching and unclenching.

She needed to be able to think clearly. She needed Miranda. She needed to protect the girls. Andrea was a fighter, tenacious and driven once she began. She'd been one since very young. What she wanted to do was go out swinging, but she knew she needed to finish what she started and she was intelligent enough not to let that first primal impulse take over. One thing was obvious. She needed to tell Miranda about what was going on, but the Dragon was caught up in a fight of her own and it worried Andrea that she might be distracting her.

Miranda, however, would want to know they were trapped in the townhouse and if Andrea didn't tell her, then she would demand to know why her mate had failed to share something so very important. The young woman shuddered to think what that would feel like; worse than the Runway failures for sure.

Forcing a false calm within, Andrea tried again. This time, having found Miranda, she envisioned sending a message to her. She remembered the events as she knew them so far and estimated, as if she could by any stretch, some of what she thought might be going on. Then uttered one simple word to the greatest multi-tasker she'd ever known. "Help!" The rebound signal shivered along her spine, took her fear and doubled it down, until she felt like she couldn't quite breathe, and then punched away from her until she felt a wiry, thin calm layer over the stronger emotions.

She waited, holding very still. Miranda would reply. She would. Andrea could wait and as she waited, she felt a tingle in her left ear, as if the ever-growing Bond tendril on that side were moving, buzzing like a wasp in her ear. She knew the phone was probably about to ring, but she wasn't there to answer it.

She felt a pulse of awareness, just the first hint of a signal from Miranda, and then was lost in another vision. It was quick, potent, and very specific. She could see the book in their library. Knew the page and understood what Miranda wanted them to do. Then it was over.

She drew in another breath and applied one of the messages that had grown oh so easy to send. She blew a kiss. "I love you."

Then, she became aware of the pounding on the door. "Andy, it's Cruella! She's on the phone for you and wants to talk to you right now."

"Coming!"

-TDWP-

Cruella had been unable to sleep. She was awaiting a phone call, one that would be delivered at a specific time. She had been looking forward to it all day and it had made the Christmas Eve parties she'd visited palatable.

She had started out comfortably enough, once she arrived home at midnight. She had expected to wait only an hour or so more and had planned accordingly. Andrea had said that Miranda was notorious for leaving parties early, which was a touch scandalous to Cruella, since half the time parties didn't get interesting until everyone had really felt the effects of the local punch. Not that the Dragon hadn't had her share of boring soirees and event banquets and the like. But the amazing thing about winter events, once Halloween started everything off, was how fun things became, which made certain points of fall and winter, despite its frigidity, some of her favorite times of the year.

Once she began to read, however, an agitation began in her; one that caused her to fling the book away with a roar. Then pause, mystified. "Wait. I liked that book."

She cocked her head, sensing, and felt no mere disturbance, but a deep and powerful rumble along the lines of her bond with Miranda. She probed the bond and was immediately caught up in it. Anger. Pain. Vengeance. The taste of blood. The burn to fight. The need to defend. She hissed in immediate response and if her tail had been visible it would have been lashing.

Instead, she paced. Needing an activity so she could think. Miranda lusting was to always be hoped for, but battle lust was not something she had been expecting for the night. And where was Andy? Once aware of her Dragon's stronger vibe, she latched onto the awareness of their Lady. The sensations of worry, fear, and the need to do something dangerous filtered across their growing bond. They might not yet be fully mated, but she felt them both strongly.

She wanted, instantly, to be there with them, but it was currently an impossibility. That would change with time. Cruella had already thought ahead to what she would want and need to do; what they would want... and need... She had already spoken to Horace and Jasper, who in turn had contacted a pair of mages and contractors they thought capable enough to meet the demand, but nothing had been started yet. It required actual remodeling for the kind of room she sought to create. It required telling Miranda about her grand plan, and she hadn't had a chance to do that yet, as the notion of a cross-continental portal had been an evolving idea for her. She knew it was possible, but very expensive and extravagant. She knew other families had similar, quiet arrangements. Hers had simply not needed one until now. There was something quaint and soothing about crossing the ocean in more traditional ways.

As she could not be with them, it was required that she make other arrangements. The first thing to do, however, was make a call.

A stranger answered Andrea's phone. Her voice was more than hopeful, slightly desperate, "Miranda?"

"Sorry to disappoint, this is Cruella. Who might you be?"

There was an inhalation. "Lily. I'm Lily, Cruella. Andy told me about you."

"Tell me what is happening, Lily."

"There are things out there. They demanded the twins. Miranda isn't here."

"Is Andy there?"

"Yes. She is. Well, not in this room. She's in the bathroom. We figured do it while we can."

"How practical."

"That's Andy."

"I want to speak with her. Now please."

"Right. Right. Of course. Please hold on."

Cruella heard the sound of movement and then pounding on the door and muffled shouting.

"Cruella?" Andrea finally answered.

The Dragon clicked her tongue softly, then purred out her lover's name. "Andy. What are you planning? I can feel it all the way over here."

She heard the click of a door being shut, then the sound of a sob. "Miranda sent me a picture, a vision of a spell. I'm going to do that. She's fighting, and I can't go to her. And there are wolves at the door. Werewolves and other things. Well, across the street. They've come for the twins. But they mean no good. I know it."

Cruella listened as Andy explained that help was on the way, and her plan to stall for as long as she could, and then, when Andrea finally took a breath, she said, "Andy, my Andy. My Lady." It was the first time their connection had been verbally acknowledged, and Andrea felt it through her entire body. The mark forming on her face, opposite of Miranda's, flared and grew as the connection strengthened. "Will you trust me? Will you accept my help?"

"I already trust you, Cruella. You are... We are..."

"Yes, I am." Cruella purred, her voice dark and seductive as the primitive Dragon part of her psyche responded to the intoxicating combination of battle lust from Miranda and fear mixed with absolute trust from Andrea. "And yes, we are."

"Mmm." Unconsciously being swallowed up in the pull of their growing bond, Andy struggled to keep her mind focused on the problems at hand.

The Dragon's voice remained low and beguiling as she continued. "And you, who were the most excellent assistant of our Miranda, shall do exactly as I tell you, though you as a Dragon Lady, have the right of final choice. Are we agreed?"

"So formal..." Andrea whispered, leaning against the wall as she wrenched her mind away from what that tone was doing to her body.

"It must be so, my love. For what I intend."

"Yes. Yes, we are agreed."

"Good. This is what you shall do." And Cruella gave Andrea a new plan.

-TDWP-

Andrea dragged the small table over to where they intended to work and opened the text. She followed the vision Miranda had sent her exactly, flipping pages as quickly as she could until she found the right one. "Okay, since you refuse to leave and because you draw better than me, you get to paint this. I don't know how much time it will take, but Miranda said... well, she didn't say it, so much as show it to me... to use this one."

"I won't leave because I can't abandon you. Not again. Not now. And we do have time. You said the shields were solid. Either they are, or they aren't. If they are, then this will pay off big for us. If they aren't, we'd still be in trouble and Serena is still a long way away. Now hold that page and let me do this." Lily hoped Miranda would forgive the red paint that had dribbled onto the basement floor, as she made a very wide circle of it around Andrea, but the bright paint was all she had to work with and she was moving as fast as she could.

Andrea stared at her friend, then said, "Wait. Why are you wearing sunglasses."

"You like them? I made 'em so I could see, like you do. Beginner's spell. You know. To see if I could do it. Followed the directions in that one mechanics book you showed me. Which, by the way is not about cars at all. But then you knew that."

"Well, yeah. I just didn't realize you'd made glasses."

"Artists, poets and musicians are the shamans of our times, or haven't you read all those articles I shared with you about creativity and meaning and creating magic in our lives? Of course, I wasn't thinking it was quite so literal. Perhaps I should have taken up that advice from my friend who was into wicca and looked up spells while I was at it, but it seemed so ... well... silly at the time and not at all what I expected magic to look like. Until I read that book you gave me, which was exactly what it is supposed to look like. And now, all the sudden the wicca stuff doesn't seem quite so silly. Maybe a little not my type of magic, but next time I'm wearing the glasses when I go to the bookstore. It'll be nice to be able to tell what works and what doesn't." The whole time she was talking, Lily was glancing at the book over Andrea's shoulder then painting, drawing symbols into the circle she'd made around her friend.

"You're babbling."

"I know. I'm scared. There were a lot more things out there than I expected when we looked out the window. I should have told you then I could see it, but you were trying to be so brave. And so I felt like I had to be too, because you know, best friend-minion. And I'm trying to get these symbols right. Okay, now step out, without messing any of these up and blow dry here. Now that we know how large it's gonna be, I'm going to start on the middle. Blow dry everything. We don't want any accidental smudges or it won't work, Andy."

"That would be bad."

-TDWP-

"Why are we doing this again?"

"To buy time, ultimately speaking. It'll look like we're setting a real quick stage or something and maybe make them pause. Or, you could just say, because Cruella told me to. Or, if you're asking about this particular spell. Power booster, and individual shield. It says so, right here." Andrea pointed at another page in the book. "Cruella says we can use it."

"You've been practicing, right?" Lily asked, as she and Andrea began to follow the directions in creating the new object.

"Yeah, but only really tiny, baby spells. I never thought I'd have to know anything big this soon. So," Andrea reminded her. "Yes, defensive and offensive, spells but they're a bit like, 'how to float a pencil.'"

"That was a good episode."

"Yeah, it was."

"You are a mighty weakling and newbie. I get that," Lily resumed their conversation. "Thus the power booster. I get her point. I want you... us... to survive."

"Oh, right. Me too."

"Especially since one of us is crazy and wants to go 'do something.'"

"Want to and have to are very different things, Lily. Besides, think of all the times I did crazy things for you."

"How the minion tide does turn. We could make a soap opera out of that."

Andrea goggled, then turned on the dryer where Lily pointed. She committed to try to help as much as she could, while the young artist worked very, very quickly, but inside she made a mental note to plot something appropriate later in response. Right now they had magic to do.

"Okay," said Lily. "You read the first incantation. I'll start on the next row."

"Right." Andrea hefted the book in her hand and began carefully reading the words as written, following the accent, imagining the greater intent of 'work. Please. Work.' She gasped and stepped back when the first row of symbols sparked and glowed before the magic hid itself again.

She looked at Lily, who looked back at her. They both mouthed, "Wow." They looked back at the magical circle. "Well, now we know why Cruella said to do that one after we did this one. I think you may need to close your eyes, Andy."

"And you won't?"

Lily tapped her glasses. "Sunglasses."

Andy tapped Lily's glasses. "Magic."

"Right. We'll both close our eyes."

-TDWP-

They hauled ass through the house, carrying the square paint board between them towards the front entryway. Andrea said, as she felt the first flutter of panic really settle in, "You know, maybe this isn't such a great idea. They might have bullets."

"Point. Want to stay indoors?"

"Definitely."

Lily quickly pulled back the locks and slightly opened the door. She shouted out, "The Lady of the House wants to speak to you! We invoke the rules of Parlay!"

"Did you just invoke a pirate rule?"

"I thought you read the manual. It's cross-cultural. Began with the Elves, who invoked it with something unpronounceable, and it evolved into the word Parlay. It's a safe discussion pre or post battle. Sometimes mid-battle, depending on how tired everyone is. But you know, we could just go out there and let them shoot at us to get it out of their system."

"I did read the manual. But unlike some of us, I sometimes have to reread things to retain them. And no, I think that would be a bad idea."

"One would think Parlaying would have stuck out."

"I was more interested in, um," Now she blushed. "Other stuff."

"Oh." Lily offered a cheeky grin. "Yeah, Nigel makes some very interesting notes. Very re-readable."

"I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to include them."

"Oh yeah he did. I bet he gets a kick out of your reactions like everyone else does."

"What?"

"Why do you think I keep you and Doug around?"

A whooping noise disturbed their conversation, just as it was getting interesting. They both stopped talking. Then there was a shout, "There is no Lady of the House! The Queen of the House away and occupied. Show yourselves and send the girls out."

The door was still slightly open and Lily glanced at Andrea. She had already done the stare at the mark and want to touch it thing. Andrea nodded, indicating that Lily should do the speaking. "The Lady of the House begs to disagree and won't come out until at least minimum Parlay is in force."

"Minimum Parlay?" Andrea inquired.

"A few minutes of no weapons or assaulting or trying to captures. The only problem is that minimum Parlay gets broken so easily."

"I really need to read that manual more closely."

"Yeah," Lily agreed.

The speaker outside replied, their voice a growl. "Minimum Parlay granted. Five minutes."

It was enough. Lily swung the door open, Andrea grabbed one end of the paintboard and she grabbed the other, and they were out and down the stairs with surprising quickness. They dropped the board to the snowy ground, face up towards Andrea. The young woman stepped on it still facing toward her friend. "Thanks, Lily." She jerked her head at the house. "You better go in now."

Lily looked as if she were going to say something, but for some reason held her peace. "Don't get killed."

"Well, I'll admit that that's not currently part of the plan, sooo... do my best?"

-TDWP-

Andrea finally turned, facing out towards those who intended to assail the townhouse. She let her hands just be at her sides, empty. She peered into the darkness, with the vision that allowed her to see those she was talking to. "I am the Lady of House Priestly. Why are you here?"

She saw one individual, a cat-like person, step forward as close as it could; which was just at the edge of the public sidewalk. It paced back and forth staring at her, shock evident in its gaze and the suddenly agitated swish of its tail. Finally, it said, "Show us your mark."

"I think you see it clearly enough, but fine, I'll turn a little so you can see more." Andrea turned a little to side, where the white-blue dragon form showed up distinctly on her cheek.

The were-cat hissed a breath. Then turned. She waved, claws out, "Clan Bastis will not participate in this. We were told that House Priestly has no Lady! It is against our Clan Law to attack a bonded pair. We go."

Andrea blinked as she repositioned herself. Maybe this would be easier than she thought.

Another creature made a prodigious leap forward, towards the were-cat. "You are bound in contract!"

"Only by fee, not by blood. Keep the money. This will not bide. The tide has already turned. If you can not see it, you are a fool." The were-cat turned back to Andrea. "Clan Bastis sends its respects to House Priestly. We will send an envoy at a later time."

"We look forward to it." The cat-person's nod seemed to indicate that she'd given the right answer and she watched with some relief as several beings seemed to detach themselves from the group.

The relief was short-lived.

The creature that had tried to stop the were-cat spoke. "House Alcantra demands the release of one Caroline Priestly and one Cassidy Priestly into their care. They will be kept well and offered no harm, so long as House Priestly cooperates at the Dragons' Ball."

"On what grounds, and on whose authority?" Andrea demanded, deciding that she might as well try to find out what the hell was going on.

"House Priestly seeks to rise above itself," The creature growled. "House Alcantra is charged with seeing to it that House Priestly knows its place at the Ball. If those who charged House Alcantra are pleased, the children will be returned."

"Doesn't actually answer the question of who is doing the charging. Nor does it pose any authority to do so. I must therefore reject any claim of right or demand," Andrea replied back, even though she understood the basics. The kidnapping or exchange of children by Houses was an ancient way of enforcing or building cooperation. It was sometimes friendly. Sometimes not. The kidnapping part had fallen out of style in modern times, for the most part, but apparently someone or someones wanted to re-animate the corpse. "The children will be attending the Ball with their family. They have no need of being elsewhere."

"If you will not give them freely, we will come and take them."

"You mean attempt." Andrea indicated the space around her. "This House is protected and you will find you cannot just walk in and grab that which isn't yours. More, the Queen of the House is not known for her kindnesses to those who seek to take that which is hers. I have seen it for myself." Andrea shivered obviously and grimaced, trying to seal in the point. "You should go now, while you still may."

"Stand aside, Lady." The spokesman demanded, going so far as to speak her title with disdain. "This is beyond your purview."

"You're not taking my kits anywhere." Andy sneered, her fists clenched in protective fury. She'd let Caroline and Cassidy be used as political pawns over her dead body, and as many of theirs as she could take with her. "You step one foot, claw or paw onto this property and I'll rip you apart with my bare hands and feed you to the dog!"

The were laughed outright, a hyena kind of chortle that sparked the creatures behind him to join. Their cacophony of bad cheer set Andrea's teeth on edge, but started a spark of something in her eyes. "On your heads be it," she ground out, a dangerous spark in her eyes.

"You are so fearsome," the speaker of the group raised his hands in mock horror. The wind lifted behind him and ruffled his hair and caused the tree limbs to creak. "Whatever shall we do when a little slip like you fights. Oh. I know. We're going to chew you up and spit you out, Lady." He raised his hand, and though it was early, he dropped it. "Parlay is over!" Then he pointed. "Get her!"

It was like watching a dark sea tide rise, only it yapped, growled, hissed and screamed. Andrea forced herself not to take a step back and to keep her eyes open. She drew in a deep breath, raised her hand in a fist pointed towards those enemies of the House that were approaching. She began incanting in a whisper, chanting a very specific set of words in a very specific order. They had been given to her, shared with her in such an erotic way that she was never likely to forget them. Words began to weave in her mind, strange and compelling. It was as if there was an echo. She wanted desperately to close her eyes, to follow that echo. The voice sounded so familiar. She noted that it sounded so odd to hear it coming out of her mouth, duo-toned and strange. But she didn't stop, couldn't stop and wouldn't stop.

House Alcantra had hurt her mate, had threatened their children, had violated the peace that was their home. The Lady seethed, unaware of the flames that were sparking in her eyes, trembling along her skin.

The creatures began flinging themselves, in great leaps and bounds, intending to break through the wards by numbers, if not by strength. She watched, without seeing, as several bounced off the shields and several others simply vanished in a bright burst of energy. If she had been able to think past the chant, she might have considered the loyalty that allowed such creatures to throw themselves against the House shields with such fervor, but she was caught up in a new vision.

The words, increasing in speed, in power, were shared. She saw Cruella, standing in a room lit by torches, in the middle of a sacred circle. She was naked, chanting as Andrea was chanting, saying the same words. Her eyes were open and Andrea stared into blazing amber.

The vision released her, but not the incantation. It wove around her tongue, threaded and pierced it. She felt as if her tongue had split, felt the words beginning to split with it. The army of creatures had not stopped their assault and she felt a pulse of rage at their temerity. She snarled the incantation; it reverberated through her, both viciously cold and frighteningly hot. Her body shook with it. Cruella's voice blended with hers, could be heard in the cold December air. She felt as if she were being pulled, up and out, but Andrea knew she was standing and still pointing. The incantation was almost finished, powered by rage and fear and need and want and trust. It rose and rose, carrying her. She felt the place where the words were supposed to stop, could hear it nearing the close, but her mouth refused, the words refused. They changed, altered. Both of the marks upon her were moving like live things, acting in independent cadence, dancing in powerful riot.

Flames began licking around her fist, wrapping around it. She felt the warmth, but not the burn. The burn was in her heart, in her mind. She would protect her Dragons. She would scorch those who came to harm them. Determination made her sweat, the sweat sizzled on the board she stood upon, spilled onto the symbols. They lit up.

She lit up. Her Dragons felt the power of it scream through them; not pausing them, but rushing through and amplifying whatever it was that they were doing. A ball of flame in the distance leaped over the skyline, exploding in terrible ferocity from Miranda's jaws.

Cruella was pulled forward and out; a ghost in Dragon form. She screamed a Dragon's scream in the air around her. Found herself in a place she had seen before, but never been. She saw her Andy, no longer merely standing, but risen inches above the platform. The symbols under her feet were like spotlights.

Cruella circled the young woman, growling with pleasure at her, wishing she could touch what she could see. The growl changed as she arrived behind her Lady. It filled with ire as she saw those cretins who were assaulting the House. No one else was around, which might have been odd, but she did not spend any time on the thought.

A billow of flame engulfed Andrea, covered her, towered over her. She felt a Dragon behind her back and knew hellfire was in her eyes. She raised her hands and finally let go of that fist and stared at the flames that her body had become. She laughed, a touch maniacally, without smiling at all. The fire wrapped around her, begged to be used. She granted the wish and flung her hands out from the wrists. The flame propelled forward, forming two balls that rolled in the air and gathered speed.

The Dragon behind her roared. The trees shook with the force of it, the air rumbled as if thunder had just rolled through. Power quaked through everything that could feel.

The army faltered, slowed in its shock. Cruella didn't bother with the niceties. No threats. No promise of pain. She leaped, Dragon unseen, but felt. Forceful wind pushed the gathering back. And then a gout of flame spilled from her mouth. She was not limited by any magical field, any barrier. She was not trying to break in where she did not belong. She could not scratch, nor bite, nor fight the way her blood sang urged her, but she could manifest fire. The flame covered a multitude, just as Andrea's strikes careened into them too. The screams began.

Andrea moved, like a fire elemental, using the flames that Cruella had granted her, like whips. She scourged them, flogged and punished them. They tried to flee one way, and encountered balls of flame that came from out of nowhere. They tried to flee another, and were made aware that a new Dragon, one they hadn't planned on, had arrived. Her silver plate sparkled over shoulders and arms, breasts, wings and legs, while the yellow of her nature, covered everything else. She screamed at them before diving in, jaws wide, talons spread.

Then, to their horror, they realized she was not the only Dragon to arrive. She had brought friends. "Begone or die!" Serena trumpeted. "Our Queen comes and she comes to destroy!"

She wasn't lying. The screams of others being chased in the distance, could be heard by those with ears capable of hearing it. The howl of a Dragon being torn could also be heard and it was terrible. The representative Dragon of House Alcantra was learning about teeth.

That would have been bad enough, but there was a whistle of sound, both weirdly familiar and not. It wasn't until the rain of arrows dropped down from seeming nowhere that the truth was understood.

The army assembled by House Alcantra, which had been frenzied in their attempt to break past Miranda's shields broke. Groups split apart, screaming and yelping and running away as fast and as far as they could. They were chased, by Dragon and Elves, driven away.

Andrea pivoted, flames wrapped around her hand like chains. Her eyes were wide and expression fierce and and hungry. She saw the Dragon, her Cruella Dragon fly back to her, felt her draw close. Dragon circled her, once and then twice.

Andrea opened her hands and the flame flickered. Cruella blew and the flame extinguished. Andrea looked at her suddenly normal fingers and skin. She reached, hovering her hand over where she could sense the Dragon. "Thank you, Cruella. I love you. I release you."

The intangible form of her Dragon curled itself around her body before disappearing, and Andrea felt the loss like a punch. She closed her eyes against abrupt tears, dashed them away with her hands and turned to look at the damage. She stepped off the board. The carnage was astonishing. She started to go to take a better look.

But felt a tug on her arm. "No, Lady Andy. It would be best if you stayed within the wards."

The weary brunette looked at Roy, saw his pointed ears, and had no real response. So she tried to explain instead. "I did this. I should..."

"We will take care of it, my Lady." He pointed up. "Your mate comes. The healers will meet you."

Andrea looked towards where he pointed. Her eyes widened in amazement. In the sky was the perfect form of a Dragon, white and gold and bloodied. She hissed in outrage, wanting the fire back that instant. She watched as Miranda began to descend, changing form in mid air, becoming more human in appearance with each beat of her wings. When she landed, she still had wings, though they were not as long or wide. She had a long, extraordinary tail, with an arrow-like spike at the end. Shining scales covered portions of her body, bikini shaped around a perfect form. The wings folded back, like a coat settling. Miranda walked regally through the chaos in the street, an assessing gaze on her face.

Andrea watched her, anxious for her mate to pass the threshold.

She caught the flash of something out of the corner of her eye, spotted a creature who she thought had been either dead or unconscious. It growled and threw itself at the Dragon.

"Oh I don't think so!"

Andrea realized she'd never quite know how Lily managed to be right there, right at that time, as she had thought her friend was in the house. But the whang of metal slamming on the face of a stranger never sounded so good. The force of her home-run like swing flung the were-being into the clawed hand of a just landing Nigel, who caught it instinctively, looked at it curiously for a moment, then carelessly tossed it over his massive shoulder back the way he had come. As the body flew over the treetops and into the darkness, Lily turned away and nodded at Miranda casually, if a little breathlessly. Andrea beamed at her friend, who held the bloody shovel and leaned on it like a staff. "Lily." she said, very sincerely, "You are an excellent minion."

Lily grinned back. "Thank you."

Miranda shook her head, smiling despite the roughness of her emotions. She turned her attention to her mate. Andrea was unable to wait any longer. She rushed forward, needing to touch her lover. Throwing herself into Miranda's arms, heedless of any watchers, Andrea hugged her tightly, her entire body trembling in the aftermath of the night's events. Pulling away at the feel of Miranda's flinch, she looked her Dragon over with a critical eye, taking in every wound and laceration with ever increasing fury.

"It is over for now, Andrea." Miranda soothed her. "Those left will be taken care of at a later time, but they will be taken care of."

"They wanted our girls, Miranda." Andrea spat out angrily. "They came here, attacked our home, and tried to take our children, to try to force you to do their bidding."

"I know, and rest assured, these actions will require retribution and restitution." The Dragon said grimly. "However, we must be prepared. For now, let us get through the Ball, as that is what this seems to be about, then we will focus on retaliation."

"They were working for someone else."

"What?" Miranda stopped. That was information that she hadn't gathered yet.

"The House that attacked us," Andrea indicated the carnage around them, "were working for someone else. I only came out here to talk, to stall them until Serena could get there, but then they told me that they wanted the girls, and why, and that you were being 'taken care of', and I just lost it." Suddenly, fatigue drained every last bit of strength Andrea had left, and it was only Miranda's quick reflexes that kept her off the ground. Andrea continued talking, her words slurring as if she were drunk or in shock. "Cruella felt us, called me. She helped. Gave me a spell that brought her here, at least a lil' bit." Miranda picked up her mate and carried her quickly into the house, a worried Lily at her side. "But the spell kept going, even after it was s'posed to end. She was right there, M'anda. So beautiful. I can still feel her."

Roy's promise of the healers was now far from Andrea's mind as the fog of weariness, the drop from the adrenaline of the evening, pushed her into a deepening lassitude. She heard, in the distance, "Andrea, you need to eat something, just a little bit. Then you can rest." She opened her eyes, saw Miranda's concerned gaze. "Drink this."

Andrea had no strength to argue, felt cool tangy liquid slide past her lips. She swallowed. Then drank more. Tried for clarity, lost it. She wanted too many things at once and had no energy at all for it. She reached for an important detail. Found it. "Closet. Bullets."

That was as good as the message was going to get. Once Andrea's eyes closed, she couldn't open them again.

Miranda, clutched her mate to her chest, looked to Lily for clarification.

"Doug! and the Girls. I'll go get them? Doug has a gun. He's guarding the girls. Andy told him to."

"I see. I would like to see them."

"Right. Let me go get them. The healers are here?"

"They may enter."

"Right." Lily turned and Miranda heard the young woman ordering people about. An elf glanced into the room curiously, then step in. They waved at someone not yet in view.

"You have done very well, Miranda."

The dragon's breath caught in her chest and she blinked back the threat of tears. "Deklyn."

The elf grimaced at the sight before them, and stepped closer, lifting their hands. "May we?"

"Please."

-TDWP-

Lily knocked on the surprisingly solid door of the closet, using the agreed on signal of three. She waited anxiously, then it creaked open. Caroline looked up at the artist, her eyes wide. Lily smiled. "It's fine." She opened her arms, took the young girl in a quick hug. "How are you guys."

Caroline looked back a little and said, "We're okay. Doug is... well... we did not know."

She stepped out the way, and Lily's eyes widened.

Doug stared out, eyes wide. He clutched a pillow with one hand and he pointed at the twins, one at a time, and enunciating very clearly, said, "They are Dragons. Really, real dragons."

"Dragon Kits," corrected Caroline automatically.

"We asked who he was. He said he was Andy's minion!" Cassidy defended.

Lily pressed a hand to her eyes, then dropped it and burst out in helpless laughter. She moved toward Cassidy and took her in a hug as well, quick and reassuring. "Well, he most definitely is now." Then she reached down to her friend. "Come on Doug. Time to meet Miranda."

Doug stared up wordlessly at Lily, but felt the calm emanating from her. He took her hand.

"I gotta warn you, she's got her wings on and very little tolerance for nonsense right now. Think you can handle that?"

Doug drew himself up. He glanced at the girls. "Well, given what I've seen tonight. It's icing on the cake and it doesn't change a thing."

"What do you mean?"

"She is Miranda."

"Too right. Come on girls. Your mom wants to see you."

-TDWP-

As if the idea of Dragons weren't enough, Doug squealed, half in glee and half in terror, when he saw his first elf. They were stepping out of the room where Miranda guarded her mate.

Lily actually stopped one, resting her hand on their arm. "Are they?"

"They still need to rest and recuperate. The Lady sleeps. Miranda will soon."

"Well the bedroom's intact. She'll probably want to go up there once she sees the kits. Thanks."

The elf nodded, accepting Lily's apparent authority. The young woman pushed Doug forward a little, because he was gaping. "Come on, everyone. I think they'll be around later?"

The half question led to a nod of response. Lily chivied her friend and the girls forward, until they arrived at where they needed to be.

"Miranda?" Lily's voice was gentle, but enough.

Caroline and Cassidy ran to their mom as soon as she started turning her head toward them. She wrapped her arm and tail around them, holding all of them close, including Andrea. She sniffed them, pulled back and gazed at them to check them. Nodded.

Then she looked at Doug and Lily. Her expression firmed. "We have yet to speak Douglas. But thank you."

Doug peeped a response, nodding reflexively. He was smiling, but overwhelmed and slightly weirded. He felt Lily's hand on his arm. "Come on. I think they need some time. Let's go see if we can meet some elf boys. Or Dragons."

"You're taking this awfully calmly," Doug managed.

"I've read the manual."

"There's a manual?"

"Yep."

"Thank God." He let Lily drag him out of the presence of his idol. "Can I read it?"

"I'd say it's required reading, Doug. That is, if you think you're ready."

"Don't know if I'm ready, but I think..." The accountant smiled in wonder, finally finding his center, "I think this may be the most amazing Christmas Eve ever."

Lily smiled back. "Well, I won't call it the best, but yeah. It's been amazing."


	10. Chapter 10

TDWP: The Lady and her Dragons Ch. 9

Andrea woke very slowly to the steady, even sound of a heartbeat. She gradually became conscious enough to understand that the reason she heard the heartbeat was that her body was wrapped thoroughly around her lover's; as if she'd grafted herself there during her sleep. A part of her wanted to pull back and assess, to see that all was well or at least better or real. The other part, wanted to stay curled into the comforting embrace and lose herself to it. She was not the only one doing the wrap-around-the-body thing. MIranda was holding her tightly in return.

"Andrea." Her name was a purr, a magical talisman, a sensual evocation. The young woman felt a surge of warmth travel through her skin, muscle and bone. "You're awake."

If she hadn't been very awake before, she most definitely was now. Other physical sensations were rapidly taking a back seat to the flush of awareness that proximity and Miranda's voice had wrought in her. In a previous life, she would have mumbled, but an unmistakable sultriness filled her one word reply. "Yes."

Miranda shifted, moving them both without giving up contact. In fact, now there was more. Her leg slid between the younger woman's. Her other arm wrapped around Andrea's waist. Her fingernails delicately traveled along skin that was rapidly becoming sensitized. Blue eyes gone hot stared into brown eyes that melted in the heat.

Andrea felt a throb of awareness everywhere, both marks, complete and incomplete, tingled. "She knows."

"Yes," Miranda said. "She always knows now. And she needs. As do I." She caught Andrea's earlobe between her lips, tugged on it, before letting go. "Invite her."

Andrea pulled back, but felt the loss of skin on skin contact sharply. She gazed into Miranda's fearless eyes. Then she smiled. 'Contact,' she thought, 'is as simple as a phone call. Either way.' She leaned back, half rolling and found her phone.

Miranda's eyebrows raised, then she nodded at Andrea's choice. The Dragon felt no need to wait. Her head ducked and she drew kisses down the column of Andrea's neck, her collarbone, her chest. She grasped full breasts in her palms and caressed and teased the already hard peaks to even greater heights.

The younger woman was already gasping with pleasure, but somehow managed to hold the phone, make the call.

The pickup was immediate. "Good morning," Andrea purred. Then she moaned as Miranda found a particular sweet spot. "Join us?" Andrea said. The words elongated, stretched with pleasure. "Gotta put the phone down... want you here." She pressed a button, opened the speaker phone.

"Andy..." Cruella's reply was an inhaled hiss.

The brunette shifted back, until she was pressing bluntly against Miranda. Their lips met, pressed and seared. They kissed hungrily, fiercely. Andrea was glad that there were no clothes between them, only skin to luxuriate in. She let Miranda's touch, both rough and gentle in its urgency, soothe the fear that had layered in her. She gasped as she felt Cruella thrum with them, ache with them. She wished, very briefly and not for the first or last time, that the Bond was complete. But then, she had to surrender the thought, surrender to the sensations and urgent need to reciprocate what her Dragons were stirring within her. For even if she couldn't feel Cruella quite as deeply as she felt Miranda, she did sense her rising passion and that added to her own.

Andrea's free hand traveled Miranda's flank, drifted over the curves and valleys. She ran her fingertips up the slim back and over smooth shoulder blades, where she dimly remember seeing the most beautiful set of wings, before tracing her the features of her lover's face, committing it all to tactile memory. The way the older woman was looking at her, the hunger and want, caused a tiny shiver of response. Her skin goose-pimpled and heat gathered to her center.

She opened her legs in unconscious submission; a right thing, for Miranda was in a deep state of need. The Dragon leaned forward, wordlessly, and pressed her teeth against Andrea's shoulder and neck, catching it in a non-blooding bite. She stroked her tongue over the thick muscle there, biting gently, so that marks were left, but nothing permanent. The silver-haired woman's touch rounded, drew back and down until she was stroking through the silky wetness of her lover's need. She growled against Andrea's skin before letting go, exulting at the way the brunette had immediately responded to her touch.

The kiss that followed sharpened, honed itself to mutual demand. Andrea let herself be noisy, let her articulations take their expression, so Cruella would hear them. Know them. Feel them. Andrea's hands drifted down and across soft skin. She paused for a moment just feeling a textural difference, where the heat was still wonderfully warm, but different. Scales. She was touching just a hint of scales. Her eyes widened then shut as Miranda responded to where she lightly explored by taking her mouth even more fiercely, sliding her tongue, which now seemed longer, with Andrea's. It only made the brunette wetter, needier and she wanted to explore more. So she did, drawing down further, until she too was stroking and touching in a tender mimic of Miranda.

The Dragon growled lightly, smiled at her Lady, and then abruptly pressed in, filling her and claiming her. Andrea's hips lifted, met the demand, while she cried out for more. She heard an echo of a growl, realized it wasn't Miranda. "Yes, More," Cruella urged. "Ours."

"Mm." Miranda more than agreed, but she was beyond words, beyond hot. She thrust powerfully into her mate. Andrea pushed and retreated, following the tempo and adding to it her own stir in Miranda.

The silver-haired woman caught Andrea in soulful, deep kisses. Heat between them increased in pace, as their bodies pressed into each other, pulled each together. Andrea whimpered and called, which only deepened the Dragons' lusty growls and purrs. The song in their blood rose. The marks on their skin slid and traveled, blending and sharpening their responses, sweetening it until there was nowhere else to go.

Andrea cried out, startled at the seeming suddenness of the sharp, extended burst of ecstasy which shocked through her. Miranda screamed into their kiss, as she was thrown out and up into Eros heights. Cruella roared, alight. They soared together, until they had to float down. Kisses and sounds gentled, softened.

Andrea pulled back with a smile. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," purred Cruella, sounding very satisfied.

Miranda's smile warmed and her eyes filled with gentle humor. "Merry Christmas."

-TDWP-

Andrea's placed her palms on Miranda's chest and gazed seriously at her beloved mate. She wasn't entirely sure how to address this, but felt she must. She wanted to make sure of something before they actually left the bed. "That was wonderful," she began.

Miranda traced Andrea's nipple lightly. "Mmm, Yes. It was."

The distraction was enough. The journalist blurted. "Was it everything you needed?"

Miranda had her head propped up on one hand, and cupped the younger woman's face with the other. "How do you mean?"

"The manual said there might be... repercussions after a battle."

"The manual."

Andrea blushed. It was the way Miranda said manual. It caused very interesting shivers along her spine. "Uhm. Nigel's notebook. He mentioned that Dragons after battle might be ..."

Miranda grinned and whispered in Andrea's ear, "Hungry?"

"Well... that was one of the words. Yes."

The editor's hand drifted down, neck and shoulder, side and hip. She rested her palm there, letting her fingers flex against Andrea's skin. The young woman arched to her. She was so sensitive there. "Cruella, are you still with us?"

"Mm. Yes. Relaxing."

"Andrea wants to know if this was enough."

"Impossible. But it shall have to do for the moment, yes?"

"For the moment."

Andrea blinked a little and Miranda decided to quit teasing. "The answer is yes. It was and is enough. For now. And, yes, what you read is true. However, one of us was unconscious for awhile. And at least one of us has been in battle before. I learned long ago how to meet my immediate needs. You Cruella?"

"An unfortunate, but necessary truth, my loves. And, if I may say, I am lately very much well practiced, thank you very much." Cruella exhaled as if she were stretching, and before Andrea could reply said, "But it is much more fun knowing you are with me. I find myself very anxious to see you."

"Soon," Miranda purred. "A mere handful of days."

"As I said. Anxious."

"Me too," Andrea exhaled. "Next time I'll strive to be less unconscious. I would have liked to have seen, at least."

"Ah, and here I thought you were going to be disappointed. Or scared." Miranda kissed her mate as a punctuation.

"Nope. I feel too good right now." Andrea, smiled warmly, still basking and feeling reassured.

"Good." Miranda tilted her head. "Would you mind very much letting me see this notebook?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind, but it's not mine..." And this, thought Andrea, was one of the differences. She never would have prevaricated as an employee. But now, she had the right. "Would you like me to ask?"

"I would. Thank you."

Andrea beamed. "Okay."

"Darlings, I hesitate to say, but I am having family over. It seems my parents feel they'd like to share Christmas with me."

"Is this good or bad?"

"Mm. Time will tell. But they love me and I them. You needn't worry on that score, luv. Now if it were my cousins..."

"You can call any time. Any place."

"Andy, I already do. And you may as well. I shall expect stories of extravagant gifts. Ta, my Lady and Dragon. I must away."

"Farewell."

"Love you!"

"And I you."

-TDWP-

Andrea was surprised to find that it was still technically quite early. The glow of the sun was only just beginning to peek through the windows. The events of the night before were part of her memory, but seemed distant and strange in the safety of their bedroom.

She had to tell Miranda. "We used red paint. On your floor."

A huffing laugh escaped from her lover's lips. "Yes. Well. One can't see it now. The spell has been activated. Other than the dribbles outside of the glyph, that is."

Andrea slid her glance to the side, taking in the amused profile. "So, it's okay then?"

"You have sufficiently made up for it, I think. Besides, it's the storage side of the basement. Some allowances are made." Miranda drew her in for a one armed hug and kissed the top of Andrea's head. "I should let you know we have several guests today."

"Your Elves."

"Yes. And several friends. I've invited Nigel and Serena to stay until the Dragons Ball. There have been some... accommodations made for them."

"They didn't want to leave you," Andrea interpreted. "We don't have enough guest rooms, so..."

"No. And, you will see."

"I wouldn't have either. I mean, if we weren't together. I would have wanted to stay. You would have had to take me in then. We were obviously destined." Andrea gave her a winsome look.

Miranda's gaze, which had already been very fond, warmed. "Yes. Well."

"So, we should get dressed then. Any time in particular you want to open presents?"

Miranda's grin was catchy. "I thought I already had."

-TDWP-

Emily stood in the hallway of the townhouse. For some reason it seemed a little longer and broader, but she thought sure she was imagining that. Andrea had greeted her at the door and invited her in; thankfully without making a production of it all, which let Emily feel comfortable enough to actually respond to the brief hug.

"Serena won't tell me why, exactly, I am here. Now." Emily was successful in curbing any stridency in her tone. She was, however, very curious. She had not been oblivious to the fact that Miranda's home was surprisingly full of people; on Christmas Day. What she did not understand was why. As she also did not understand why Serena had not returned to their home, but rather demanded that Emily pack up supplies and come to Miranda's house; to stay. Overnight. Perhaps over several nights.

The redhead glanced down at the suitcases, which she had stuffed with sundry and clothes and at the bags of gifts she'd hastily bought and brought. It would not do, she had thought, to arrive without something. Now she worried that she'd failed to bring enough.

"Are you feeling up to something hot to drink?"

"I'd kill for a good cup of tea."

"I think we can manage that. Let's get these bags upstairs to your room. Serena would have greeted you, but Miranda's got her and Nigel in a meeting right now. It'll be short and sweet. She promised."

"Oh. Well. Good enough, I suppose." They took the stairs, which also seemed longer. It had to be the number of bags they were carrying, rather than the number of steps. Not that she'd ever counted the number, but...

"Has Miranda been renovating?"

Andrea barked a laugh. "Oh. You could say. I'll explain it over tea, if you like?"

Emily bit back the snap. 'Christmas,' she reminded herself. 'Think Christmas. Think peace to mankind, including Andrea.' "Yes, please."

-TDWP-

The tea was hot, aromatic, and perfect. Emily clasped the cup between both hands, letting her elbows rest on the table in front of her. She and Andrea were in a cozy little room, where the sun, as modest as it was in winter, helped to warm it. The brunette waited quietly as Emily sipped, allowing the other woman to set the pace.

The first assistant set her cup down, still holding it to warm her hands, and said, "One would think we'd all be gathered around to open presents. I'm surprised the twins have waited this long."

"We bribed them with a present early this morning. They're playing it now as we speak."

"Ah. I see."

"Well, it's not often that Miranda's family gets to visit on a day like today. And we want to do this all together once things are settled more. What did you think of the decorations?"

"Outstanding, of course. Family?"

"Well, right now I'm thinking that they are, really. If one thinks about it. I mean, not her blood relatives, barring some ceremony, I'm sure, but they are people she loves. Yes."

Emily took a sip of her drink, using that time to process what Andrea was saying. "And does that include Nigel and Serena?"

"And you." This time it was Andrea who took a sip. She ignored Emily's gasp of surprise. "I think that would be the case, even if it weren't for your lover. Miranda trusts you. I trust you with Miranda."

"What are you talking about?"

Andrea cocked her head and contemplated the redhead for a good half-minute. Though her thoughts about how to approach Emily had been going on for a lot longer. She could take one of two approaches with her; delicate or blunt. She thought about how long she'd known Emily and what she might think or how she might respond. And, it wasn't anything that flashed like a great insight, per se, but rather a sudden accumulation of memory that happened to run along the line of her thoughts. Emily tensing, straightening, becoming more ferally observant and skittish around certain persons; Miranda, of course, but Emily had actually been relaxed, in a kind of way, around her boss. She trusted Miranda to be herself. Serena and Nigel, come to think of it, were also exceptions of a sort. But she recalled a case when a delivery person came bearing boxes and Emily could hardly stand to be in the same room. At the time, Andrea had thought it had to do with what the person was wearing, but now...

The journalist considered the way that Emily would only half look at her, over the last few weeks; which was highly unusual. Lately the assistant would barely meet her eyes, and the redhead was not a shy person. It all came together and she blurted, "If you had to guess, how many Dragons work at Runway? Aside from Miranda, I mean."

Emily blinked and blinked at her and then lifted her cup and took a long, steadying sip. Then she set her cup down. Her voice was surprisingly normal, though it held trepidation in it. "Excluding outsourced employees?" Andrea nodded, her eyes growing wider. "Forty-two. Except during double issues. I've seen near a hundred then." She cleared her throat. "You see things too?"

Andrea held very still and then she nodded. Her voice filled with wonder. "Have you ever told anyone?"

Emily shook her head and flinched. Her lips tightened, ruining their usual fullness. Her hands gripped the cup even tighter if that were possible.

Andrea set her cup down and reached, putting her hand on Emily's forearm. She whispered, as if sharing a world of truth, which she was. "They're real, Emily. They're for real."

She watched in astonishment as one tear, then two, struggled down the Brit's face. Andrea's hand slipped down Emily's arm until her palm rested in the assistant's. She held that hand tightly, knowing this was as close to a hug as Emily was ready for.

"Da was not one for trifles." She said that, as if it explained everything, and perhaps it did. She gave Andrea's hand a single squeeze and they let go, retreating back to their cups.

"Serena has been worried..."

"I understand coming out. It's just a matter of scale."

Andrea looked thoughtful, then grinned. "Literally."

"God."

They both took a sip from their respective drinks. "Do you want to read the manual?"

"There's a manual?"

"Nigel kept a notebook. Doug's reading it now. Miranda's next."

"Summarize. Then, yes. Why would Miranda need a manual?"

"She doesn't. She's just curious."

"She'll probably end up editing it."

"Yeah, I can already see the markups. But, it's what she does." Andrea nodded. "Do you want colors or clans and Houses first?"

"What's more politically important right now?"

"Uh." Andrea thought. "Both. Color affects hierarchy. But the House thing is being a real pain in the butt right now. I'll explain more later, but here's what I think is happening. They're panicking, because, you know, Miranda has a way of picking the winners and of bringing them over to her side." Emily nodded. "Well, based on what happened last night, some of the... let's just call them competitors for a moment... decided to take pre-emptive action before a big political shindig. Serena and Nigel were here last night to assist Miranda. And, at this point, I don't think it has to do with the magazine, but yes, it has everything to do with what we're talking about, Clans, Houses and colors included. For example, a winner, in our circle, is Serena and she's part of Miranda's House for her own reasons, but her Clan was already allies."

"Serena is Yellow, with hints of silver." Emily closed her eyes. "I see her all the time."

Andrea took a deep breath. "She'll be... glad to hear that. You should tell her."

"She's been scared to tell me," Emily interpreted.

"Wasn't sure how you'd respond," Andrea softened.

"Mm," the Brit took another sip of her tea. "I wasn't sure how she'd respond. I thought... well, it doesn't matter what I thought."

"When did it start?"

"I was a kid." Emily licked her lips and her gaze turned inward. "I'd just become a teen. Something tried to have me for lunch."

Andrea gasped. "Emily."

Emily raised her hand. "None of that." She glanced at her almost empty cup, then continued her story. "Tried to bite me. Didn't. Did something to my head to make me see it, because it said it liked to taste fear in the blood, but the thing's plan backfired. And I was scared, no doubt, but as you know, I respond so well to panic." Andrea snorted and Emily offered a flicker of a grin. "I kicked its ass. Drove chair legs through its balls and heart. But I could never not see, after. Learned how to manage it, but... I just ...didn't have words for it. And my family, well..."

Andrea watched as a deep sadness fell like a cloak over Emily. "Apparently one doesn't just announce to one's parents that a monster attacked them in the dark. Nor does one stick to the story. Because, if one does, one gets invited to go away to a hospital for awhile. So I took it back, and I adjusted, and I never mentioned it to anyone again."

"Emily..."

The redhead shook her head and Andrea bit back what she was going to say originally, in favor of nurturing their friendship. "Accounts for your taste in clothes." The effect of her words was instantaneous, as that well of sadness was immediately covered with benign outrage.

"Says the woman who started out with none-at-all."

"True. I own that. But look at me now. A changed woman."

"No doubt due to Miranda's direct intervention."

"And Nigel's"

"Thank God." Emily's expression became pensive again. "I could see you, you know."

"I... what?"

"I could see you. You have always..."

"No way."

"Andrea, please. There was always something about you. And now, there is more." Emily lifted her hand slightly, and the way she motioned caused Andrea to touch the Miranda's Mark.

"Oh. Uh. Always?"

"I couldn't tell what you were. You weren't on my mental list. The not knowing set me off." Emily pressed a fingertip to her brow and pointed at Andrea. "Not only were you not on my list, you seemed to have this inexplicable and odd connection with my boss."

"Our boss."

"Then, yes. Now mine."

"Well, okay. But it is too bad. I always thought we would have made a great team, if we could have gotten past... you know... I could never figure out what it was... We were sort of heading that direction and then Paris happened. That went so well..." Both of the young women winced. "I didn't know, about being any sort of special, Emily. I still don't know, about that, I mean. I only understand some of what is going on now because I can see it now, and it's all been put in context." Andrea chuckled. "Heck, for all I know, I could be dreaming."

"Or I am."

They looked seriously at each other, then, for the first time since their first meeting, shared a genuine and friendly smile together.

"Colors, Andrea."

"Right. There's a whole spectrum..."

-TDWP-

Elsewhere in the house, three Dragons and an Elf were meeting. They had already covered tactics and were dissecting the discoveries of the previous evening; not least of which was the application of power by Andrea. That topic had become, if not heated, one in which Miranda had put her foot down.

They were winding up for the next topic when they all paused. Roy halted mid-sentence. Dragons and Elves were beings with strong senses; Dragons in particular, but hearing was notoriously one of Elven-kind's strong suits, though they had their limits. Still, unless privacy magic was invoked, Dragons could not be barred from perceiving or overhearing things; especially in their own homes. While they might choose to let it go or not to spend their time on observation, every detail was stored in their vast memory, for later perusal if they chose.

Part of why they'd stopped, was that an unusual and gentle conversation was being held not far from them and revelations were being made. Their conversation stilled and attention turned to Serena, whose senses extended outward. The beautiful woman's eyes widened as she listened. "She knows. She knew." Her eyes closed. "She was so afraid at first. I thought it was because... I thought it was because I was a woman. But we could not stay away from each other." Her hands curled into fists in her lap, as outrage at Emily's treatment by her family threatened. But that thought was overtaken by the choices her lover made, to be with her despite her fears. "So brave. She is so brave."

"That is the nature of the Bond." Miranda said, reaching out and laying a gentle hand on Serena's shoulder. "But yes, our Emily is very brave. Much braver than any of us knew. And now, you have choices."

The blonde nodded. "She is mine and I am hers. I will speak to Emily."

Nigel gave her one his looks, "It's about time." Then he looked at his watch. "Speaking of time, morning passes quickly."

"Right. Roy, you were saying..."

-TDWP-

The window in the parlor had been repaired sometime during the night and flickering lights strewn across it. Emily and Andrea passed by the room on their way to one of the larger rooms, where everyone was gathering. The tree and the gifts had been moved there, decorations set and a buffet table filled with food and drink made available. Neither woman tried to figure out how it was done. They were both simply grateful they weren't the ones who had to create the miracle this time.

They separated at the door, with Emily heading one way, toward Serena and Andrea the other. The brunette was greeted with a kiss from Miranda and quick hugs from the twins. "Wow," she said. "What a spread."

"I know!" said Carolyn.

"We so scored," said Cassidy.

"Hush now," Miranda said gently, placing her hands on the twins shoulders. "It's time." She turned her attention outward, and even though she hadn't said a word, quiet spread through the room.

Miranda spoke, in that famous, even, dulcet tone, "It is not often that this house has been so blessed. I was not able to greet all of you last night and this morning has had its duties..." She glanced at Nigel, Serena and Roy. "But, now it is time for celebration and communion. I have asked Deklyn, as the senior-most present, to do the honors." She nodded at the Elf. "If you would?"

"It is my honor," the healer bowed slightly. "I shall follow the human protocol of selection and naming. We shall not wait for discovery, as people may share their joy as it is found. Rather, please open your gifts as I continue on. If it pleases?"

"It does," Miranda approved. Her smile was warm and genuine, for she knew this one thing. Elves loved this time of year and they loved the idea of gifts. For Deklyn, the opportunity to be the arbiter was as much a gift as getting one.

"Then. Just so." Deklyn reached down and lifted a gaudily dressed box, and without even reading the label, said, "From Serena. To Emily."

Somehow, thought Andrea, that seemed appropriate.

-TDWP-

The noise in the room had gotten louder and happier, but not annoyingly so. Paper was strewn carelessly around, but as there were plenty of seats and plenty of gifts, no one minded. When Deklyn lifted two gifts at once and offered them to both Miranda and Andrea at the same time, no one even thought twice about it. Many already had gifts to occupy their attention or were talking about the gifts of others.

In some ways that acted as a buffer from the attention. By the time they unwrapped the gifts that Cruella had sent, Andrea and Miranda each held a compact, palm sized box and no one was really looking at them at all. They, however, were looking at each other.

On an unspoken signal, they both lifted the lid and both looked at what they held. Andrea's soft exclamation of, "Oh," was drowned by someones laugh. Miranda's exhale of amazement was enough to distract Andrea.

The younger woman said, very softly, "I thought it would be a ring."

"How like her," Miranda replied. She reached in to touch the object softly, stroking it. "It's ..." She looked at Andrea, her eyes shining. "... so unexpected."

"Family crest?"

Miranda nodded mutely. "Adjusted. Handcrafted. For us. Made new."

"For us."

"Yes."

"Her family is going to freak."

"They won't see it. Yet."

"Miranda."

"She knows. Or she wouldn't have done it this way. It's for after."

"So then we're doing the rings?"

Now Miranda smiled, with a gleam in her eye. She hadn't stopped caressing the white-gold broach, as if the mere touch could invoke Cruella's presence. "Oh yes. And I know just the place to get them."

-TDWP-

The large corridors and rooms of Hell Hall had been transformed for Christmas. Christmas lights, winter colors and the scent of pine and cinnamon permeated the abode. Cruella's people had decorated the whole space, within and without. The magic of the holiday blended with the magic that was already there.

If the Dragon Ball were not mere days away, Cruella might have been tempted to throw a party. The manor just had that kind of feel to it, and the sensation boosted the pleasant glow she already felt about her life. Difficulties there were, yes, but she had things to look forward to; or people rather.

And, of course, her parents would be here at any moment. She considered teasing them with some frippery, but chose instead to wear a power suit, black lined with crimson and slacks instead of skirt. She thought she might need the fortification, since both her parents had strong personalities. Andy would rather like them. The girl seemed to be attracted to strong people, a trait that Cruella admired. She wasn't entirely sure her parents would understand the necessity of Andy, aside from the fact that she was a Dragon's Lady. That made her politically valuable, if nothing else, but it was hard to determine the sufficiency; not that Cruella had intention to bring the topic up.

In fact, she'd taken the time to move the strengthening tendrils of the bond, somewhere less... apparent on her body. Clothes might not necessarily hide the magical imprint, but they could fuzz it from less the less observant; such as Reginald.

A crooked smile graced Cruella's face in memory of the "gift" report that had been delivered to her that morning. Her people had taken her demand for retribution and turned it sharply upon the Lord Buckley. While no enduring physical harm had come upon him or those select of his House, they had endured classical repercussions for folly, which had forced most of the sensible ones to stay home; frogs from the mouth, odd things growing from the body, electric fixtures destroying themselves when they were present. While it was not blood atonement, it was for the moment, sufficient and she accepted that her people were making the House that attacked her pay their dues.

She was very pleased with Jasper and Horace and did not ask what it was that inspired them to loyalty with such short acquaintance. She was a little afraid to ask, but more than happy to accept that it was true. Elves always chose their own allegiances, for their own reasons. It did not have to make sense. It was as if there were a bond there too, one unwritten, but factual none-the-less.

She was greeted at the White Parlor, which had been decorated in theme with white faux-tree, white garlands, silver streamers, white and silver ornaments, and what seemed to be a million tiny white lights that sparkled like stars. "Alonzo."

"They're here, Ms. DeVil. They are being escorted now."

Cruella's lips curled in anticipation of what her parents might think of that development, but she managed not to laugh. "Good. Thank you. Did you receive your gift?"

In past times she had simply ordered Alonzo to see to it that a stipend had been added to his December paycheck, but she had been feeling magnanimous this year. The stipend was traditional, so she hadn't skipped it, but she had procured a particular item that he'd been wanting.

He beamed at her, nodding sharply as he fished a new phone out of his pocket and displayed it for her. "Thank you. It was exactly what I was looking for."

She leaned forward, gave him a friendly peck on the cheek. "No. Thank you." Then she pulled back. She looked at the Parlor and was tempted to see what the Black looked like, but she saw that gifts had been stacked under the tree. Her eyes widened and a smile graced her lips. "Are those..."

"For you. And the ones you bought for your parents."

"Delightful."

"Would you like cider or tea, Cruella?"

"It's a little early for cider. Tea will do. How are the preparations for the flight?"

"Coming along. The packing is almost done. We have, in case, made some arrangements for your parents."

"Thoughtful. We are taking the private jet, are we not?"

"Yes, though some of the... assistants will be taking first class instead."

"Good enough." She strode towards the tree, and gazed down at the packages, before crouching down and lifting a long, somewhat weighty, rectangular box. "One of these is not like the other," she hummed. Then in a swift motion, she undid the ribbon that tied it, and popped the latches that held it closed. The item contained within caught her breath. It was no mere sword, but a bright, ancient, very well cared for, and sharp item of profound worth; a rare House Blade. It was rarer still, because House Blades were always destroyed when a House was broken. That this one was not... She imagined the fury of those who sought it and smiled wickedly. Their loss. Her most fortunate gain and she would insure it with more than her life. She unfolded the note, which was far too brief. "House Priestly guards that which is theirs. M."

The words brightened in her hand, glowed and the paper burst into quick flame, leaving nothing, not even ashes.

Cruella ran her fingertips just over the flat of the blade, without actually touching it. She could feel the energy. It was real. New House blades might exist for a new and growing House, but this ancient blade had seen scores of centuries and lived. She could almost hear the whisper of a name, as she cocked her ear.

She intuited that there would be three items of power and power, three carefully hidden and conserved. The House Blade was one of them; a keystone of House Power, to be used rarely - in ceremony or dire straits, such as when the House itself was under attack. The older the sword, the more powerful. A House that had such a blade was never without defense, which is why they were so very precious and why enemies sought to destroy them at the time of conquering a House. That this blade was presented to her now, reminded her that Miranda was a woman of decisiveness and one not easily put off. It was more than promise. It was done deed, with no questions.

It was also a great risk. If the sword rejected Cruella, it would not be a mere matter of returning it. At the same time, to truly safe-keep it, the sword would need to know her and it needed to be quickly done; parents or no parents.

She was amazed her voice was so calm, so casual. Why, it sounded as if she did not care, even as she was experiencing chills up her spine. "Alonzo, please watch the door for a moment. Don't let anyone in just yet."

He did not bother answering, but she heard him step away and the door close lightly.

She took a breath, and another, then with the firmness gained from years of practice, she grasped the hilt of the blade and lifted it, gave it freedom. The pommel warmed immediately in her grasp, becoming hotter and hotter. If she had been merely human, she would have dropped it. She was a Dragon, of the oldest and purest lineage. The heat told her that this was deep magic and she responded to it. She stilled the roar that wanted to escape her lips as she felt that heat wrap around her hand, her forearm.

Instead, she brought the blade up to where she could see it clearly, and whispered, "I am Cruella DeVil." She wondered why she felt the urge to explain, to tell it why, and if she even could express the reasons entirely ever. She could not yet call herself Mate. She hadn't the right. "Your House sends you to me. You have not been ill gained. You have safe-haven with me. Our Houses," she brought the flat of the blade closer, whispering even more quietly, "will be joined, creating something new. It is merely to wait." She lifted her other hand, feeling a strong compelling demand, and pressed it near the tip, drawing down quickly. She gasped, feeling the pain so very briefly, seeing blood poor down the line of the blade and then watching as the blood and the split in her palm disappeared.

A light flashed, blinding her temporarily. She was caught in a timeless moment, where she felt weightless and surrounded by something she could hardly fathom. It was power, great and awful. Her senses reacted as if a predator stalked around her, taking her measure. She held still, and forced herself to relax, as she would for any wild thing. With a whimsical smile she even held her hand out, palm up; a symbol. Let the wild thing sniff her and know what she was, who she was. She was astonished to feel the sense of it taking up the invitation and the trailing motion hinting around her body, then stopping and pausing where she had hidden her nascent Bond marks. Then, abruptly, it leaned up against her and purred.

When she blinked, she saw the sparkle that happens when eyes must readjust and the sword rested quietly in her palm, at ease. She exhaled a shuddering breath in relief and amazement.

Reluctantly she put it back in the box, sealing it carefully. Then she carried the box to the door and opened it. She had already decided the best way to protect the blade was to use the purloined letter method. She spoke to the man who stood at by the doorway, awaiting her word. "Alonzo, see that this is packed in my gear for the plane. It will need special provisions. It is a weapon."

"You wish it declared."

"I do. I want no mistakes. Make sure that all paperwork is done. It goes where I go. If people ask, it's for my hobby. You know which one." She handed the box to him. "See to it quickly."

He bowed, clutching the box to his chest and hastened out of the room. It was only then that she allowed herself a brief moment to tremble before the wide predator's grin took over.

-TDWP-

Her smile was softer by the time her parents were escorted into the Parlor. She walked to them and planted a kiss on their cheeks and short hug. Other families might not be so social, but hers had always been modestly demonstrative. "Hello Mum. Dad." She drew back. "It's good to see you."

Her mother, Voruth De Vil, was a pale, petite woman with dark black hair, piercing green eyes and perfect red lips. She was considered colorful and engaging, while her father was thought of as somber and dangerous. Her father, Eachann De Vil, was a tall, dark-haired man, blue eyed, nose like a beak, and very serious. He had a surprisingly great smile when he chose to share it. They were both dressed semi-formally. Their visit, after all, was not for a family picnic.

Voruth leaned back and gave her daughter a hawk-like assessment. She immediately knew, in the way of mothers since forever, that something fundamental had changed within Cruella, but could not put her fingertip on it. She was distracted by several factors, including the environment and the increased household. Cruella's mother patted her on the cheek, "It is good to be here, Darling. We love what you've done with the place." Her smile was genuine, if a touch worried.

"Yes," her father rumbled. His bass voice had always been comforting to her. "Very good."

Cruella smiled and stepped away to let them come in further to the Parlor. "I'm glad you like it. Tea?"

-TDWP-

Somehow they managed to avoid any immediate deep discussion. The gifts proved to be invaluable in that regard and Cruella had enjoyed watching her parents pleasure and surprise far more than she had expected. Then her father picked up a gift, intending just to hand it to his daughter. The small, neatly wrapped package fit in the palm of his hand and his eye caught an unfamiliar scrawl. "From: Andy," he intoned, quite unintentionally giving the name a depth of meaning that resonated with Cruella.

She blushed. She actually felt her skin change color. The red hue flattered her features, reflected in her eyes and the change in mood caused her bi-colored hair to wave restlessly. The Bond tendril moved of its own, sliding up her trunk, across her heart. It wound around her like a snake. She had no recovery time between the point of her father's words and taking the box, and yet she forced herself to will it down.

She was partially successful; unaware that the paler line of her bond with Andy nestled and peeked in a swirl across the curve of her breast. It was unobservable by normal human vision, but a Dragon's eyes? Her mother's attention narrowed, then refocused on her daughter's face in quick succession.

"Andy?" her Mother inquired briskly. "Who is this Andy?"

Cruella had practiced this moment in her head. She had debated what to tell her parents, if to tell her parents, how to tell her parents. None of that stopped the words that came out next. "She is my Lady."

Voruth drew back, not quite hissing, but her expression widened in a kind of shock. "Your Lady."

Several expressions crossed Cruella's face; defiance, ruefulness, then sheepish confidence and acceptance. "Yes." Her hands covered the box, stroked it like a pet. "One day, out of the blue, she called. She wished to know my side of this whole video game debacle. Then she proceeded to tell me I needed to get better PR. Can you imagine?" She started to chuckle softly. "I only answered because Alonzo was away. She's an American."

"American?" her Father confirmed, as if he hadn't quite heard right.

"Yes." Cruella nodded, then started to set the package aside.

"Aren't you going to open that?"

Cruella considered it. She was a little reluctant to do so in front of her parents. Then she considered what she knew of Andrea. She brought it back to her lap and began to undo the package. The paper slid off easily, revealing a simple box. She opened it carefully. Then grinned. She lifted it out by the hinge. The silver ornament, twirled lightly in her hand. One side held a photo from the blizzard, Andrea and two young girls. They were all bundled up for the snow, but still obviously one brunette and two redheads. The other side held an image of Miranda; not a glamour shot or one from the Runway editorials, but one from home, as if she'd been caught reading and only just looked up to see something pleasant.

"May I?" The query was softly given and not a command. Cruella looked at her mother, trying to gage her reaction and then as an act of trust, handed the item over. Cruella did not have many of these kinds of treasures.

She was gratified to see the older woman handle the item with all due care. Voruth examined both images quietly, her expression starkly neutral. Cruella chanced a glance at her father, but he was looking at her mother too, as if waiting for a verdict.

"Your Lady seems to know someone of our acquaintance."

"Yes. They are Mated."

Voruth's green eyes lifted and met the amber gaze of her daughter. "I see. And your thoughts on this?"

"I look forward to our consummation."

The ornament trembled in Voruth's hand, until she stilled it with her palm. Then, most carefully, she handed the object back to Cruella. "You are sure?"

"Does the Bond ever lie?"

"Never," her father whispered. "It never lies."

"Then I am sure."

-TDWP-

Voruth strove to keep her tone reasonable for her daughter. "It is not about acceptability. Your father and I already have decided to side with you on this. It is about politics and timing."

"I am not hiding the evidence of my attachments mother."

"And if that evidence endangers you?"

"Were you not made aware of Lord Buckley's attempts? The lack of evidence is just as damaging, perhaps more-so."

Cruella's mother waved that off. "That is not what I am talking about. Do you not think your..." She glanced at the tendrils of power, now loosed upon her upset daughter's skin, that had brought about the discussion. "... bonded might agree."

"I don't know and I have no desire to ask this of them."

"Then allow me." Voruth's tone made it clear that it was not a request.

Cruella's expression turned intractable. "We are all going to the Ball, Mother. I will not be attending naked, but neither will I hide who calls me and what I am to them. I simply won't."

Eachann's hand touched her mother's shoulder. "Voruth," he said gently, prompting her away. "It is her decision."

"No." Cruella sad, "No. You are wrong about that. None of this has been about my deciding. It is about acting upon fact." She spoke through clenched teeth. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited?" Her voice ached with the years of waiting, even as her gaze narrowed.

Her mother surprised her. "Yes." Her expression was tight and a touch frantic. "Yes. We know. We have always known." Tears glittered at the sides of her eyes. "Every day I thanked the Gods that... that..."

"Miranda," Eachann rumbled. It wasn't that the name was forgotten. It was that they were out of the habit of saying it out loud. Yet now it reverberated with natural power in the White Parlor.

"Thank you." Voruth said, and continued. "That she had the foresight necessary to protect you. That she understood; knew enough to guard you. As we have. All your life, Cruella." Her mother's expression crumpled. "You were so very young. And she could have come and claimed you right then."

"But she didn't." whispered Cruella.

"Because it would have been a travesty," intoned her mother.

"No. It didn't have to be that way. All she needed... All we would have needed... is for someone to hold true, to who and what we were. We were meant to be together."

"You weren't robbed. You weren't."

She glanced at her parents. "She could have stolen me away and you wouldn't have had anything to say about it. I spent decades of my life hoping she would. But she did not. Because she is, despite her reputation, a Dragon of Honor.

"I am not accusing, Mother. Not you. Or Father. But my family. Our precious Clan, broke an oath of allegiance. And it left us weaker." She could no longer say broken, or lost, or profoundly lonely. Instead she stood up and paced to the tree and let her fingertip brush the ornament that now rested upon it. "And where we are now. I recognize that if Miranda had sought me out before I was old enough to understand, we all would have been vulnerable. And I think... I think it says a great deal about who and what Miranda is. That she would choose to wait. She would have waited anyway. We both needed our Lady.

"Nor," she continued, "do I fail to value that you have been extraordinary parents. I have been a trial."

Voruth clucked and rushed forward. "No. No you have not. Never think it."

"Too late," Cruella said, with a slight twist to her lips. "But I shall put aside the thought, for you."

She allowed herself to be drawn into the hug, brought in from the side, and then turned around to something more full. "You always knew?"

"You were never a shy child when it came to trying on new clothes while shopping, even at that young age. Besides, who tended your wounds when you were hurt? Hugged you after frustrating dreams? Taught you not to play with those tendrils in public." Once again, one of her parents made her blush. Voruth kissed Cruella's cheek. "Dear. You always were precocious."

Cruella's chuckle accompanied a slow roll of tears. "Ah. Well. I perhaps should have known."

Voruth patted her daughter's back, gently, before letting go. "Your Father and I are very proud of you. You have handled yourself quite well. Though you did worry us for a few weeks this year. The Dog Show was a stroke of genius."

"I got the new PR firm, on Andy's suggestion."

"Well, your Lady proves her worth then."

"Yes. Before I even knew her well. Will you and Dad stay for dinner?"

"Would you like us to?"

Cruella looked at them both. "Yes. Very much. And I... I shall try to be open minded. You are perhaps correct that I and my intended should not go in with both guns blazing."

"You just want to."

"Oh very much." Cruella's grin was wicked. "There are so many who need to be taught a few lessons."

"It sounds like it will be an exciting Ball."

Eachann said, "Aren't they always."

-TDWP-


	11. Chapter 11

TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 10

The guest room was huge. Emily had noticed it before, but now in the dark lit by a sliver of moonlight and on the surface of a warm bed as she awaited her lover, she was more aware of it. She lay on her right side, on the accustomed side of the bed, and let her eyes scan the lines most found to be invisible. She felt, oddly and strangely, incredibly safe; even though, technically, this was a stranger's bed. It was not, however, a stranger's house. It was Miranda's.

There were only two other places that she had felt this kind of safety. Her lover's abode and Runway's floor on Elias-Clark. She considered that it was perhaps why she had not rushed on from her job, aside from the fact that Serena was also there.

"Are you ever going to be done?" Emily let her voice lift and carry. The tease was a common one between them, started so long ago that she could have claimed that she didn't track when. That would have been a slight untruth. She always remembered everything; which is why she was so very good at what she did.

"Soon, soon," the tall blonde tossed back, peering once through the attached bathroom's door. "Only a few more things to do."

Emily did not add the obvious hurry. She was still contemplating the revelations of the day, the way Christmas had wrapped itself around Miranda's household and brought her in. She had been on the verge of tears several times through the day, attributed to an unusual moodiness brought on by the season, but also this frank vulnerability that she could not quite escape.

She rolled over to watch Serena. Her lover flicked off the light and that left only the moonlight to cast its the Brazilian's natural bronze skin. The artist shifted directions, surprising Emily, and so, the redhead sat up, trying to gage the other woman's intent.

Serena smiled, seeming easy in her skin, but her eyes betrayed a nervousness there. Emily recognized the flavor from another time, when the blonde had been psyching herself up for weeks to ask Emily out. It held both the air of decision and the sense of doom.

Emily knew doom very well. She had only come to appreciate recently, that those particular expressions did not necessarily mean destruction. Only, some form of change and risk.

Serena slid beside Emily and did what few had the privilege of doing, wrapped her arm around the redhead and drew her in. She said, quietly, "I have something to tell you."

"You're seeing someone else?" The way Emily said it, she might have sounded hopeful. It was another game.

"Yes. His name is Frederico." Serena said evenly. "So handsome, but, I am afraid I will have to disappoint him once again. You see, I have this girlfriend."

"Ah. Well, I won't tell, if you won't."

"But I want to tell you. I want to tell you... everything."

Emily's breath hitched and she finally took a good look at her lover. "Serena..."

Two fingers touched her lips, then drew down slowly. "It's time."

Emily tried to keep her expression from closing, knew it was somewhat of a losing battle. After all, one's nature was not something that had an off switch. Instead, she chose to respect Serena's wish for silence and continued to look, to pay attention to her.

Serena's knuckles brushed her cheeks. "You love me so. I can tell this, where others may not see it. But I see you. I see you trying so hard, love. Every day. And I still had no idea, how very much, except that you chose me."

"Yes," Emily whispered. She reached out, wound her arm around Serena's hip. "I did. And I would. Again."

Serena smiled softly, not quite meeting Emily's eyes. "What I am about to tell you is something you need to know and that I need you to know. It is about who I am and who you are. It is about what will come and what I long for. I am only prefacing, because I do not wish you to misunderstand. I loved you far before I knew that I needed you. I loved the way your eyes flashed with passion, the fierce drive that powers you to live and thrive. I loved your brightness, both mental and physical. You shine, Emily."

"Serena."

"Hush. Or I shall have to kiss you and I won't finish what I must say."

Emily pressed her lips tightly together, letting her eyes say what she would not. Serena smiled at the "get on with it," expression. She even loved that. How could she possibly resist that silent command?

"I am a Dragon, Emily. I am from a long line of Dragons. We are not creatures of myth, but of this reality. My father is a Dragon. My mother is a Dragon. We burn the air with fire. We are creatures of magic. And we seek, always, our true mates. My family has had few in the way of Lords and Ladies in my clan, but their blood runs through us, purified by their true Bond and so, they too, are Dragon, by nature. You and I, we have something profound between us, something I had chosen to resist for your sake, but only because I did not wish to frighten you." Serena drew in a breath, not wishing to give a hint that she had overheard a conversation. Instead she focused on another truth. "Now House Priestly, Miranda's House, is being threatened by outsiders. We are called to play a part that requires that us all to be more Dragon than we have been in a long time. If I do not tell you, it puts you in danger. If I do tell you, I chance that you may reject what is true between us. We have a Bond. You are my destined. You," Serena finally looked Emily in the eye, "are my Lady."

Emily swallowed and her grip tightened on Serena, who continued. "I will respect your choice, if you do not wish to consummate the Bond. It is no mere act of lovemaking, you see. We can continue as we are, if you wish, though it pains me some to say it. I need simply to be near you, is all. But, I want to protect you with all that I am. This means that I yearn to complete the Bond. And to claim you as mine would tie us together, bind us to one another in a permanent way. It is forever. I can not imagine how I would go on if you said no. But I would be so honored, if you would allow it."

Serena waited. And waited. Then grinned. "You are so ... you. Speak, my Emily. Before I burst."

Emily pivoted on the bed, and wrapped her hands in Serena's night gown. She then drew Serena in and kissed her, deeply, warmly. When they pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. "Serena, if you think you have even a hope of escape from this Harpy, you might as well give it up. You made the bed. Now, take me in it." She kissed the Brazilian on both cheeks and whispered in her ear, "What are you waiting for?"

It was the first time that Emily ever heard Serena growl and that sound vibrated all the way through her. Serena divested herself of the nightgown, up and over and on the ground. Then she reached for Emily's coverings. She paused. Emily could see it in her eyes and she nodded. And then gasped as the expensive nightwear was shredded, pulled apart and off her with astonishing speed. "Serena!" Emily lunged forward, suddenly needing that skin on skin contact. Lush kisses followed, the kind that had her holding to her lover for balance until they reclined.

The blonde pulled back and stared at Emily for a few seconds, as if gaging things. The redhead narrowed her eyes and deliberately pressed her nails into Serena's backside. "I won't break, my Dragon."

Serena gasped, inhaling, then smiled a suddenly whiter, sharper smile. Emily's eyes widened and her heart beat faster. The other woman's movements changed, but the Brit couldn't quite say what was different. Only the way she was looking at her, as if she were partly snack and partly lover...

"Mine." There was the growl again and Emily recognized now that gleam in Serena's eyes. Sheer possessiveness and want. The artist pressed against her, letting her weight settle, shifting so she was between Emily's knees.

She lifted the redhead's hips with her hands, pulling her up and closer. Emily felt something wrap around one of her legs and looked down and then back at her lover with wide eyes. "Is that what I think it is?"

Serena paused, "Does it distress you?"

"God. Don't you dare hide it now. Just answer the question. Tail?"

"Yes."

Emily glanced down to where the tail caressed her. Then smiled a ferocious smile. "Prehensile."

"Oh. Yes."

This time it was the Brit who crushed their lips together. Her breast and body ached and sharpened to Serena's touch. The more they touched, the more contact they made, the hotter and more passionate she became, until it seemed as if she were sparks behind her eye. Serena touched her everywhere, breast, belly, back, thighs. Emily reciprocated, needing to explore this new thing, this new connection.

The tail wrapped around her forearm and she grabbed it, for a brief few seconds, slid her hand along its surface to feel how real and warm and heavy it was. Then she let it go, so she could scrape her fingernails along Serena's breasts, feeling the way they responded and stiffened in reply. "Take me," she whispered. "Please, Serena. Now. I need you."

Serena's hands finally slid lower and Emily opened for her. She pressed into the thrust that followed. The Brazilian said it again, "Mine!"

Emily couldn't help the reply. "Yes. Yes. Yours." The redhead's skin suddenly tingled and sang with sensation. Her blood felt like it was on fire and she drew back from Serena's kisses. "And you are mine."

It was as if she'd thrown gasoline onto fire.

She bucked against Serena's driving thrusts and reached, needing to feel, wanting it. Wetness covered her palm and fingertips. She found what she sought and grinned, feeling something wild and unrepressed surge forward in her, demanding that she claim what was hers. "My Dragon. Mine!"

They surged into one another, finding a rhythm that shook through them, sweetened for them. Emily thought she saw light flow between them, silvers and yellows of different flavors, but all theirs. Her skin was alight with it. So was Serena's. "Beautiful," the Brit said, finally unable to fight the tears. They burned across her cheek, scored it like fire. She felt branded, wanted it.

Ribbons of light slid around them, through them, pierced her. "My Lady," hissed Serena through her Dragon's teeth and suddenly Emily was lost. The light exploded around her, in her. Through her. It cascaded, and sang through them both.

The Dragon and her Lady shouted, as fire and a storm of light pulled them up and up. The light thread through them, tied them to one another, bound them together. Serena wrapped her tail around them both, holding them tightly. Her hands grasped Emily's head, kissing her fiercely, until it seemed as if they were one being.

They hovered above the bed as light and power danced around them and through them. Then, the fire soothed within them, complete and done. They met the bed in slow descent, until they lay together, curled into one another.

"Serena?" Emily whispered.

"Yes, my Mate?"

The English woman shivered at the word, felt it sing right through spine and center, another shimmering orgasm of pleasure. She touched Serena's face, traced the new lines with awe and new understanding. Light flowed between her fingertips and the mark. She could feel the thrum of energy between them and she could see her own mark reflected in Serena's loving hazel gaze. Then, feeling the need to say what she was going to say more urgently, she whispered. "I loved you too. From the first. I wanted you to know."

"Emily," Serena purred. "I already knew." Then she smiled as she kissed her Lady.

-TDWP-

It was a cold, grey, wintry day. The sun, which had been visible for Christmas, hid behind dark gathering clouds. Andrea pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders as she stepped out of the car. Miranda was still at Runway, completing projects that needed doing in preparation for the upcoming weeks. New York Fashion week was not too far away and the Dragons Ball played a little havoc with an earlier intended schedule. She would be bringing the girls with her. Andrea and a handful of others were there to make sure that their group's suite was secured and ready.

She waved at Roy and then turned toward the massive hotel and waited for Lily. She noted the number of people moving in and out of the building, some in a great hurry. Some not. Frankly, there were a lot. She had not yet adjusted her vision. She didn't want to overwhelm herself.

"Andy, is that you?" A familiar voice had her spinning around in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" Andrea wasn't quite aghast, but she was near enough.

Nate smirked at her, "Working." He jerked his head toward the ornate hotel. "My boss is helping with some major thing going on here." He pulled her into a hug. "We're gonna be cooking up a storm."

"Wow. That's..." Andrea cocked her head and honestly considered it for a moment. "...really great for you, Nate. A major coup. A lot of important people are supposed to be here for this thing."

"Oh. You've heard of it then?" Nate inquired curiously.

"You could say." Andrea didn't feel any deep obligation to tell him anything. After all, he was the one who'd left, but she also didn't want to seem totally unfriendly. She didn't have anything against him, any more.

Lily slid near to stand beside Andrea. She touched the hollow of her friend's back. "I'm guessing the line is huge. Want me to go save a place?"

The brunette smiled at her friend, appreciative of the support. "Emily's probably got it, but yeah, maybe we'd better."

"Wait a minute, you're going to be here?" Nate's expression shifted to confused.

"She has to be," Lily said with a cool smile. "Old boss. New Job."

Andrea slid a surprised glance at her friend, then grinned. "Well, I suppose that's one way to put it." She shrugged at Nate. "It's a convention and we have to be here."

"Oh, so you're covering it for your paper then?"

"Not exactly." Lily intervened. "We'll tell Doug you said hi?"

"Sure. Maybe we could all get together. Invite him and catch up, you know. Since were all going to be here anyway"

Andrea swallowed the reply, then her back straightened with sudden alertness. "Do you smell that?"

"Smell what?" Lily asked.

"Something wonderful."

"Pardon?" Now both Lily and Nate were confused.

The scent tingled in the back of her brain, dangerous and subtle, flavorful. It reminded her of Miranda, sensual, deep, spicy, but it was also very different. Her response to it was equally compelling and she barely resisted turning her back on Nate to try to track it. "You don't smell it?" she asked again. She closed her eyes and inhaled, savoring the sensation.

She experienced a hint of memory, pursued it like a hound after a fox. The last time she'd felt something like this, was the first time she'd entered Miranda's office to be interviewed. The scent had thrown her off her game, and then the Dragon had spoken and she was done for. It was that incredible scent which had made her turn around rather than retreat. It was determination to get the job, which allowed her to find her voice.

That moment was, she now realized, not just just about the impact on her senses. It had been the Bond announcing itself in no uncertain terms. She felt the mark on the left side of her face begin to do more than just tingle. It hummed and heated around her ear, and jawline. She clenched her teeth to keep herself from moaning.

"Wow," said Nate in a near whisper. "Talk about hot. She could warm my tree any time." His gaze was not on Andrea, but on something past her shoulder. She took advantage of his breathy exclamation and turned around. She could not help the inhale, which only brought that delicious aroma deeper. The exhale was a nearly subsonic purr.

Her most immediate response was a form of total agreement with Nate, but it was an utterly barbaric and visceral desire to claw his eyes out, rip his tongue off at the root, and shove everything where the sun didn't shine that she nearly gave into. It was Lily's quick and firm grip on her shoulder that kept her from turning about and seeing to it. She heard her friend whisper, "She does look amazing."

How it was, that Lily could make the same observation, without that same vivid impulse, Andrea did not know, but the words settled her and gave her permission to really take it all in.

She saw a woman in profile. The woman was speaking to a gigantic fellow and he was listening very carefully. She wore black on black, obsidian really, with dashes of silver accents. She had foregone a hat, letting her dark and light hair shimmer and glow. Andrea realized that the wild raven locks were the same color as the rest of her outfit. Her hair framed her face perfectly, while the deep colors brought out the richness of her lips and eyes. The dark fur coat's thickness wrapped around her like she was a queen. The sleek, form-fitting skirt, suit-coat and silk, deep v-cut collared blouse accentuated every curve and line of her. Andrea spotted the textural notes, the way the black striped up and down the jacket, same color, yet somehow not and the way the collar silk blouse frilled, just enough to give a hint of floral without being obnoxious. The brunette's gaze slid down shapely, perfect legs and took in the Christian Louboutin six-inch patent pumps. The woman wore them without even the appearance of tottering and moved in a glide, cat-like in grace. Andrea longed to run her hands through the fur, along the clothes, all around the woman's body. Her fingertips tingled with the need to do it.

"Cruella," Andrea whispered, unable to contain herself, drawing her eyes back up again to see the whole and bask in it. The name tasted of honey and hunger.

The person in question began to pivot, as if she'd heard her name and could not resist the impulse to respond to it. At the same time, Nate grasped the brunette's arm harshly, forcing Andrea to turn. "Wait. You know her?"

"Nate, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Lily said, her voice a little high. Her grip on Andrea tightened, and she tried to tug her back; each yank growing more firm. She looked back. Her eyes widened and she whispered ferociously. "You need to let go of Andy right now."

"What?" he asked, giving Lily a strange look. "I'm not doing anything." His gaze narrowed, and jealousy blazed in his eyes. "Hold up. Are you two seeing each other again? How many people are you sleeping with Andy?"

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Lily snarled. "Let her go." Andy glared at him in fury.

"Let me go, Nate." Andy repeated coldly. "Now."

His attention flickered between them and only grew more puzzled as he took in both exs' displeasure and one's near panic. He still held on and his grip tightened more.

Andrea felt a shiver roll up her spine as "presence," made itself known. "What's this?" The words were crisp, cool, and very British.

Andrea felt Lily's hand drop from her shoulder like it was on fire. Nate's grip, however, had tightened. His expression firmed. "I think I'd like to know that too."

"Really," the word slid through the brunette. Somehow it was both a purr and a threat. Andrea looked to the side, noting that Cruella was not looking at her, nor even really at Nate just yet. Her attention seemed to be riveted on the fingers that were gripping Andrea's wrist.

"Yes. Really." Nate said. Andrea grimaced. She twisted her arm in his grasp, trying to convey with her eyes that it was time to let go now. He was obviously caught up in some inexplicable inner dialog, as if he had a right to be doing this at all.

"And who are you?" Now Cruella's attention moved, up his arm, shoulder, to his face. Her eyes indicated that she seemed to be planning how to take him apart, but she offered him a cool smile. He smiled back, possessively, showing teeth.

Andrea was aware that Lily was holding very still; practically holding her breath. She could understand it. She felt the dangerous vibe too. The brunette thought she should answer, and somehow cool the heat that was building in the air, but was completely unable to find the will to interfere.

"I'm Andy's..." Nate blinked, as if he was suddenly, finally aware that he might be doing something odd and out of bounds. "Well, I'm ..." He cast a glance at Lily, who was glaring and giving him a raised eyebrow, obviously still angry over his accusations. No help there. "... Nate. I'm a cook." He missed Lily's roll of the eyes, because his attention returned to the gorgeous woman in front of him.

"Ah. A cook. And you belong to Andy?" Cruella looked at Andrea and Lily.

Andrea replied instantly. She wanted things to be perfectly clear, "He did once. But he hasn't been mine for a long time. I thought maybe he could be a friend, but..." she looked down at where he still hadn't let go. "... I don't think he's ready."

"How interesting. So, cook named Nate, " Now Cruella extended a gloved talon-tipped hand. She tapped lightly on his wrist. "This hand of yours, must be very valuable."

"Huh?"

Lightening fast, Cruella moved, digging her claws into his wrist until his fingers reflexively opened, and then she pulled the rest of his hand roughly off of Andrea's wrist. She yanked his hand back, bending it sharply, without quite breaking. She twisted it lightly, not going quite as far as her eyes said she might. Nate could feel the muscle and bone threaten to pop, and he squeaked in agony. She gripped his shoulder with her other hand, letting her talons dig in. She used only a small amount of her strength to press him. Nate bowed back until he was on his knees.

Cruella growled down at him, eyes hard and unyielding. "I am not known for my patience. In fact, in some circles, because I want what I want when I want it, I'm considered a denizen of hell." She grinned wickedly. She laughed and it sent chills up spines. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Now, Nate the Cook, I have heard them both repeatedly request that you unhand Andy, yet you seem to be suffering from some sort of hearing deficiency. Therefore, I will tell you the same, in terms that even you will be able to understand. If you ever touch Andy again, I will break you. I will bury you. And then you won't ever need this hand again." For emphasis, she yanked it a bit, causing him to yelp.

Then she abruptly let him go, the force of which pushed him back onto his heels. Cruella stepped back and paused only to give Andrea a long look up and down, which had the journalist's entire body heating furiously. She firmed her expression when her amber gaze met brown and stalked away. "Alonzo! I'm freezing. What is taking so long?"

Nate clutched his hand to his chest. His eyes were very wide. He looked at Andrea and then at Lily. Then he spat out, trying to preserve his pride, "Well, it seems you found another one, didn't you Andy. Does this one run you ragged like Miranda did? Do you take her calls all the time?"

"Any time and all the time, Nate." Andrea's reply was sharp, but she wasn't looking at him at all.

The artist ground out, "I tried to warn you, Nate. You can't say I didn't. As for who and what Andy and I see or don't, it's none of your business any more. And obviously, we're swimming in a bigger pond right now. Maybe you better stay in the kitchen during the convention and not come out while we're around. It'll be better for you. Oh, and you better hope to God she doesn't bruise, because if she does... well, there's just no telling." Lily turned her attention to her friend, who looked a bit shell-shocked. "Andy. Andy hon, come on. Let's get you inside." She wrapped her arm around the journalist's waist, guiding her away and into the hotel. Lily sent one last warning glance Nate's way.

-TDWP-

Lily whisked Andrea past the service counter, through the wide lobby with its diamond chandeliers and its soft customer seating, straight to the dark embrace of a bar. She sat her down on one of the tall stools and made an order. "Whiskey, straight, two fingers, for my friend. Bourbon on the rocks for me."

The artist turned to her friend and placed a hand on each shoulder, looking her right in the eyes. "Now listen. You can do this. You absolutely can. I can see your brain working. I know what you're telling yourself right now. But..."

"Lily," Andrea stared hard at her, as if she couldn't quite absorb it all.

"You have got to blink, Andy. You have to breathe." Lily's words gentled, "And you have to hold on, just a little longer."

"She is in this very hotel," Andrea said. "So close, I can taste her." She shuddered visibly and then became very still.

Their drinks arrived and the bartender accepted Lily's thanks without a word. The artist lifted her glass and took a sip. Then, after the heat and flavor of the drink fortified her, she said, "You knew this would happen. Remember. We talked about it. You all talked..."

"I didn't realize... It's... God, Lily, it's so strong... I thought, you know, because with..." Somehow Andrea kept her head enough to keep her voice down and whisper, "... Miranda. I was so oblivious at first. Well, now that I think on it, a part of me felt the pull and the need. I always knew that part. I just thought I couldn't have her. And it was never easy, but I had so many things to do. I had distractions. She kept me running. I see why now. It was for both of us. Only, I don't know if she knew either. She must have. I didn't realize how important that was. Distraction. But this is worse. I know. She knows. We know. It's like double. Triple. No... more than that. I feel hot all over." Her eyes widened. "My teeth ache with need for her, Lily. My teeth."

"Drink your whiskey, Andy."

Lily watched in fascinated horror as Andrea slammed the drink back, swallowing roughly and quickly without so much as a sputter. The young woman slapped the glass back on the counter. "More."

"Andy, really, one is..."

"More."

"Bartender. The lady will have another. We'll stop at..." She slid a glance at her friend and made a guess. "... three." Then Lily smiled tightly. "Andy, can I have your phone for a minute?"

Her friend fished in her pocket, and handed it to her without looking. Lily dialed. "Hello, yes. Is Miranda around? Uhm. Yes. Well, tell her that Lily called and that it might be good to hurry with whatever she's doing. Well, maybe not in so many words. Just... tell her that Lily called. That's probably enough. Yeah. Thanks."

She clicked off. The second drink arrived. Andy slugged that one back too. "Andy, you stay here. Don't go anywhere. I'm going to go check and see if we've got access to the suite yet. Okay."

Andy tilted her head and looked at her friend, then at the empty glass. She pressed it against her forehead. "I don't think I'm going to be okay, Lily."

"Yes. You are. You just need to get yourself centered again. Give me the goals. Right now. Spit 'em out."

"To make it through the Ball in one piece. To not fuck it up."

"Andy, can you do that?"

The brunette turned on the bar stool and gave Lily a baleful look. Then she sighed as the warmth of the drink finally hit her bloodstream. She closed her eyes briefly and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I can."

"That's my Andy." Lily patted her shoulder gently as she slid of her seat. "Hang tight. I'll be right back."

"You'd better." She looked at the new drink set before her and set down the empty glass. Then she turned back to the bar and hooked her legs around the legs of the stool, to keep herself from getting up and walking out to find Cruella. "Hurry."

-TDWP-

Miranda couldn't leave just yet, but she could send people out of her office. "Take a break. Be back in five. We will go over this one more time before I leave. It will. Be. Perfect. Understood? Now go."

Her children would have called it a ripple in the force, but whatever the name for it, Miranda had felt a powerful jolt between her connection with Andrea and Cruella. It had been startling enough that she'd paused mid-sentence and had to cover it up by appearing to arbitrarily change her mind about a photo. She knew she could correct it later when editing the Book. Her staff was used to that sort of thing by now.

Just after everyone exited and before she could call Maria to guard against intruders, the assistant delivered a message. "Lily called."

"I see," Miranda said evenly. "I shall take care of it. See that no one bothers me for five minutes, then let everyone back in. Shut the door after yourself. That's all."

Miranda picked up her cell phone and turned in her seat so she could face the window. She grimaced with displeasure at being unable to do the one thing that would have both simplest and most effective. However, they had all promised to keep the use of their special connections to a minimum in order to prevent unintentional signaling of their relationship, given that there would be so many who used or understood those things at the Ball. Not touching them that way should have been much easier, given how much practice she had, but she had grown to adore the random play they conducted with each other.

Instead, she had to rely on the phone and only to Andrea; who she sensed, definitely needed her. She pressed the speed dial, heard the connect and ring. It only rang once, before being answered. The habit was deeply ingrained in Andrea.

"Miranda." The editor's heart broke at the pain in her Lady's voice.

"Andrea," Miranda said. This is where her long years of practice did do her favors. It kept her voice even, cool. Soothing. "I will be there shortly. Not too long now."

"Okay," Andrea said, "I might be a little drunk when you get here. Lily got me whiskey."

Miranda compressed her lips, not appreciating that fact that Andrea even needed such a fortification, but not begrudging it. "Eat a little something to go with that. I'll get the girls settled when we get in."

"Oh. Miranda."

She could hear Andrea's disappointment in herself and could not let it stay. "It's alright love. Everything will be handled. It will be fine. Very soon."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I love you." The words were spoken with absolute surrender and a trust so profound that there was an actual shift in the Bond.

Miranda's responded on several levels as she experienced a relaxation of the tightness in her gut, with a warmth both sensual and heartfelt that replaced it. The first and foremost she articulated. "And I you."

-TDWP-

Cruella leaned against the door-frame of the master bedroom in her suite and tried to collect herself. Even now, she could feel the almost irresistible pull to the young reporter who was so close, yet so completely untouchable to her at the moment. A part of her railed against the unfairness of it. She had not been kidding in her dialog with Nate the Cook. When she wanted something, she pursued it with a single focus. Though, she had delayed personal gratification before. This, of course, was no mere point of waiting. This was aching need, a junkie fix that was not only incurable, but would only scale upwards until the Bond was fulfilled.

The Bond urged her to finalize that fundamental attachment. She had seen the want on Andy's face, had felt it when the young woman had spoken her name, oh so softly. She doubted it had been an intentional call, but it had been so compelling that she had turned despite herself. The memory of Nate touching her Andy caused an immediate and unpleasant growl to filter past her lips. She had been so tempted to rectify things by snapping his neck and then taking Andy away. The Dragon had barely kept her head about the matter. Perhaps those tales of Dragons kidnapping maidens had more than an element of truth in them. And then, when she'd taken time to really look at Andy in the flesh... Cruella shivered. It had been as if all her senses had come online just for that moment.

The Dragon, even in the sway of these fierce sensations and feelings, took a moment to analyze, to consider the surroundings and the context; to check for danger. It wasn't for her own sake. Protecting her Lady had become a priority.

Cruella's memory could not call up anything dire, no particular witness who stopped or stared. The fortunate thing was that everyone was racing to get into their temporary abodes, to fill the halls and spaces of this "convention." Hell, Alonzo had even garnered their complimentary packages, with itineraries and notepads and pens.

She bit back a hysterical laugh and closed her eyes. "Andy. Andy." She could not and would not use the Bond, but just saying the woman's name soothed her. And burned.

The necessity to deny what was theirs, while practical from a political and security point of view, was highly unfair; one might even say tortuous. The more she thought of it, the more to her mind she felt if she must suffer, so must others. After all, she's often heard that misery does love company and she, Miranda and Andy already were. More, she had a role to play, that of a Dragon seeking a mate. It was a truth, but one bound up by other facts and need. It would be no hardship to perform and was a necessity, and if it had been a few weeks ago...

Ah, well, therein lay the play.

-TDWP-

Much to Lily's relief, she found Emily to be quite close to finished with the sign in process, and was there just in time to garner the suite keys. The artist watched in amusement as the access manager processed and smiled and hurried for the redhead. When Miranda's assistant finally stepped away she had the bemused expression of someone who'd encountered an unusual respect.

Lily couldn't help the smile. She'd seen the Mark earlier, when she'd been wearing her special glasses. "Hey, Lady Emily."

The redhead straightened, and, oddly suddenly appeared much more self-possessed. "Lily. Where is... Lady Andrea."

"The bar. She got accosted by an ex on the way in."

"What!" Emily glanced around sharply, eyes narrowed. Several individuals stepped back, even though they weren't anywhere near the young woman.

Lily waved it off. "Long story. We were rescued. But she's taking a little liquid stress relief right now. Thought it might be a good idea to take it to the suite before she gets too relaxed."

"I see." She handed two keypasses to Lily. "I'll get Roy on baggage detail and then go make sure things are set up to our Queen's expectations."

Lily blinked, realizing that she had started it with the whole Lady Emily tease, but the red-head's seriousness, brought the whole thing into perspective. She was here as part of a team for House Royalty. How cool was that? She took a breath, smiled and said, "Right. I'll go get Andy so we can get situated. Meet you at the room."

-TDWP-

Andrea sipped at the final drink that Lily had ordered. The need to slam it back was no longer riding her so fiercely.

"Oh. I beg your pardon Lady..."

Andrea offered a sideways glance at the male person speaking to her, then canted the rest of the way around to take a good look. He was tall, skinny, blonde and green eyed. He also had pointed ears. The Elf offered a half smile.

The brunette's expression queried the stranger.

"Forgive my intrusion. I am called Alistaire."

"But that's not your actual name."

"No. I've lived among Humans awhile. It's easier for them to pronounce and close in frame to my real name."

Andrea nodded. "I'm Andrea Sachs. You can call me Andy."

"Lady Andy?"

"You can skip the Lady part, if you want."

He flicked a grin at her, "American casualness. It's so entertaining. But I enjoy some of the formalities. Especially given our current function. You are attending, correct."

"That would be correct. So, very, very correct." Andy took another sip of her drink. Then she said, "So, Alistaire, do you hail from a House or are you here to take in the sights."

"The sights."

"Ah. Of which, I am now one."

His smile broadened and he canted his head toward her in acknowledgment. "Indeed." He waited a beat, as she took another sip. "And your House?"

She considered. "To be revealed a little later, I think. Unless you already heard." She pointed delicately at his ear.

"No. If it was revealed, I did not hear it."

"Then, pardon me if I save the surprise. It's so rare that I get a chance to."

"Andy Sachs," he said, as if suddenly putting a piece together. "You are a reporter. I have read your articles."

The journalist smiled for the first time since the beginning of their discussion. "But did you enjoy them?"

"It truly depended on the topic."

"Well, I will give you that. Some are definitely more interesting than others." She looked about, noticing that the bar was beginning to fill. "Too bad there are some things I can't write about."

"Ah, but, Lady Andy, that would be incorrect."

"It would?"

"I strongly suggest revisiting the topic online. Start with Dragon's Portal."

"Well. I may have to add something to the manual."

"Manual?"

Andy waved her hand dismissively. "Long story. You're not a publisher by chance?"

"Me. No. Too many sharks in the water for a sensitive lad like myself." He pointed at his chest, "Actor. Artist. Entertainment."

"Ah. Stage then?"

"Porn."

"Seriously?"

"You'd be surprised."

"I've been being surprised every day for weeks now. I'm just adding it to the list." Andy considered, then she asked. "Gay or straight."

He grinned at her, charmed. "Elf. That practically always means any of the above. Well, except for a few things."

She laughed, and was glad she hadn't been sipping right at that moment. "Well, that seems to be a common trait among non-Humans if I'm reading right. But, I guess I can't really say much, since I'm bendy-flexy myself."

They grinned at each other and then both turned at Lily's approach. "Hey, Andy. Glad to see you're still here."

"Alistaire, Lily. Lily, Alistaire. Elf on the roam."

"That's very interesting. He wasn't hitting on you?" Lily looked at them both, noting that Andrea seemed much more relaxed.

"No. I don't think so."

"I wouldn't dare. I like having my limbs attached."

Andy lifted her glass and finished it off. "Here, here." Then she said, "It was nice to meet you, Alistaire. Have fun."

"I shall certainly try."

Lily steadied her friend as she stood up. "You ready to go?"

"Lead on McDuff."

-TDWP-

One of the things that Andrea had learned way back, when she was working with Miranda, was that all Executive Suites were impressive in their own way. This suite, which was designed to house several persons in separate rooms, was like a full-fledged gold leafed and chandeliered residence; there was even a fireplace.

"Smokin'," Andrea said, wide eyed.

"Yeah. And you get the master bedroom, which is... Holy cow."

"Really?"

"Go look," Lily pointed and then, sort of helped Andrea wobble in that direction.

Her friend paused just inside the door, slightly stunned. "Sweet googly."

"I know. My room isn't that big, but it looks as good. I can't even begin to guess how much Miranda is spending on this." And she leaned forward and whispered, "Or how she managed to acquire it. Apparently everyone who is anyone is vying for the good ones. When I went to get the key from Emily, there was totally a major argument going on about one of the suites. Bad mojo. But ours had been reserved, and, well, Emily is Emily."

Andrea nodded her head. "Miranda made the reservation the day we got the invite."

"Good thing."

"Respect." Andrea looked seriously at her friend. "I think I gotta lay down."

"My friend, your ginormous bed is that way."

"Thank you." Brown eyes twinkled. "I would never have found it without you, oh faithful minion."

"That's the spirit!" Lily grinned back suddenly, glad that Andrea's mood had shifted even a little. Sometimes awe over the material things could be good. "I'm gonna go tease Lady Em a little more. She could use a few laughs I think. Either that or she's got to be distracted from reaming some hapless bell-boy a new one."

"Good luck with that."

-TDWP-

The room was blissfully dark when Andrea next awoke. She was turned on her belly, her arm hanging down on the side of the bed. It was quiet, serene. Her head really appreciated that, though a part of her thought that it had to be impossible that she had slept all that long. She realized, after a few heartbeats, that there was a reason for her relaxation. A warm, familiar body was laying next to her.

"Miranda," she whispered. She did not actually want to wake her, if it really was night time.

Her mate moved, until she was pressing against the brunette. "I'm here."

"It can't be night yet. Can it?" Andrea rolled over, at first intending to just lay on her back, but her body had other ideas. She found herself on her side, pressed front to front with Miranda. She could see the concerned blue of Miranda's gaze like a glow.

"It's not night. Just a very good hotel, with very useful curtains." Miranda spoke quietly, like she always did. Only more so. "How is your head?"

"Wow. We should steal the curtains and put them in one of the rooms for days like today. We'll call it the cave room." She was still whispering, but she could feel Miranda's smile. "My head is... a little like it would be after drinking three whiskeys straight. I maybe... overdid. But..." She pressed her forehead into the crook of MIranda's shoulder. "... she's here. She was ... Oh, You know, the television and magazines never do either of you justice. I mean, obviously you're gorgeous, but ... the pictures don't tell a person how very potent... it is to be near you."

"Andrea." Miranda kissed the top of her lover's head. "Really now."

"It's true. Everyone knows it. But..." Andrea moved to wrap her arm around her Dragon's hip and winced.

"You're hurt." Miranda gently lifted the other woman's arm off her hip, and brought it to where she could see it. She growled as she noted the bruise. And a simple inhale told the her the culprit. Male. Familiar scent. "The cook is here?"

Andrea didn't question how Miranda arrived at that. It was her thing. "You didn't have a chance to talk to Lily yet?"

"Your ex-boyfriend," the word was a snarl, "touched you?"

Andrea blinked and couldn't think of a response. "He said hi. Then... it kind of went downhill from there."

"Did you tell him you were mine?"

"That didn't really come up. I mean, we were talking about how he was going to cook, then he said wow and we all looked at Cruella, then he got really weird and grabbed me. Wouldn't let go and then Cruella came and I think if he'd said a wrong word she might have torn his arm off. But it's probably only sprained a little. Miranda..."

"His scent is on you." Again there was that growl. The sound slid between Andrea's ears and down her spine.

"It wasn't by my choice."

"I know." Miranda attempted to still the flare of possessiveness that surged in her. She kissed the wounded wrist. "I understand that. It's just..." Miranda moved and she was suddenly more on top of Andrea, than beside her. "For so long he touched you. When I could not."

"I know that feeling. I..."

Miranda's lips descended on Andrea's before she could say more. The kiss was demanding and slightly invasive. The younger woman lost herself to it. She started to move her hands, intending to bring Miranda closer, but the Dragon held both her arms down; not harshly. Just firmly.

"Do you ever think of him?" Miranda whispered, finally releasing Andrea from the kiss.

The younger woman blinked at her, honestly confused. "Who?"

Miranda grinned, and plundered her mate's lips again. This time she let go of Andrea's arms, dragging her own hands along her lover's body. "The clothes must go. I'm afraid I'm going to ruin them."

"You bought them. They're yours to ruin."

"You were always so practical." Andrea shifted, as she felt Miranda's nails slide along the edges of her body. The cloth literally parted around her.

"One of the reasons you love me." She shivered. She so loved when her Dragon did that. It was a good thing they could afford to replace the clothes though.

"Yes. I do love you, my Andrea." Miranda dragged the scraps of cloth away and off, even as she was drawing her lips around her mate's jawline, down her neck, settling herself comfortably as Andrea's legs parted, one curving around her hip, the other around her leg. "Let me show you how much."

-TDWP-


	12. Chapter 12

TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 11

Miranda straightened Andrea's collar again. It was less a straighten and more of a fidget, but as these were her mate's hands and it meant that she was being touched, Andrea did not mind so much. "Are you sure you don't want me to, you know, stand behind you and spout memorized names. I'm actually kind of good at that."

Her lover smirked. "There will be no hiding behind my skirts, Andrea."

"Who said anything about hiding, I just love watching how you sway."

Amusement glinted in Miranda's eyes and she finally stepped away from Andrea. "It's about first impressions love. I want them to know it, to feel it in their bones, that this time it is different. This time, I bring power to the table."

It was an amazing admission, and that Miranda should trust her with it now took Andrea's breath away. "I'd so kiss you if it wouldn't ruin your make up."

"I can always redo the lipstick."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't stop kissing you, and we both know where that leads."

Miranda's lips curved more fully into a grin. "You say the sweetest things."

"Well, it's not like you can help being totally hot. Especially in that outfit, but still." Andrea offered Miranda the rare opportunity to see her taking in the full visual and appreciating it. "I may not always totally appreciate fashion, but you could wear sackcloth and make something of it. Yummy."

"Time to go," Miranda said and pointed to the door. "We shall see if your appraisal matches others."

Andrea arched a brow, knowing that the one thing Miranda was always sure about was how good she looked. But she still turned around and followed her lover's directive. She was glad she did, because that appreciative hum of Miranda's did all sorts of things to her composure.

- TDWP -

A seemingly endless stream of people entered a very spacious conference room through multiple double doors. The room, enhanced by magical skills and elven dexterity, had become more of an auditorium; one reminiscent of the U.N. or similar governmental spaces. Stations tiered in row after row, filling with surprising speed, given the number of individuals who would be present for this first meeting. This was to be the kickoff of the Ball; with a short ceremonial set, an introduction of the ruling and major Houses and finally the addressing of any announcements for the conference part of the Ball. After the formalities, there would be, as in any gathering of this nature, cocktails, drinks and social amenities to allow for people to introduce themselves. Were it not for the magic and the royalty, it might have seemed quite normal.

Most of House De Vil were already in attendance, with their spaces chosen and safeguarded from those who would try to take the choice seats. Larger or Important Houses tended towards the front and Smaller Houses tended to sit towards the back. Given the number of people arriving it made it difficult to grandstand. One could be eye-catching, but one had better keep moving until they found and took their seat.

Under usual circumstances, Cruella would have waited and tried to enter somewhere at the last, because she had no real interest in sitting with her family. However, she was motivated to arrive a little earlier than her preference. It was time to put on the display.

Cruella DeVil strolled in as if she were gracing them with her presence, acting as if she was queen of her House already. Her parents gazed on with pride. Her cousins with dismay and shock. She wore a fire-engine red dress that fit against her like a second skin, with a short hemline that revealed supple thighs, a dropped v-neck that displayed both part of a streamlined belly and the hint of her breasts. Her wild raven and white tresses were topped with a tiara composed of rubies that formed two small horns on either side of her head. She wore ruby and gold jewelry, that warmed her skin and emphasized the way she moved. Her heels brought her height up and up. She glittered, offering a sexy dangerous smile to no one and everyone.

They looked. They couldn't not see her. She was a rare, rare Dragon and in high form and they were going to remember her entrance for a long time.

- TDWP -

In a way, Andrea realized, this was their coming out. She was in a very public space, with a very public figure going to a sort of almost public convention. Andrea clung to Miranda's arm and tried to keep from smiling too much or too little. She tried to stay in pace with her mate, despite the sense that she was being watched from all sides and the snap and glare of photographs being taken. She held her head up, and let her Dragon break the crowd by the force of presence, stateliness and knowing which she always carried within. It was awesome to observe and still intimidating to the journalist; yet another mark on Andrea's inner tabulation of cool things Miranda could do, which she had going on since her first day at Runway.

"Do you see how they look at you, my Andrea? Shades of awe and envy. Look at how they observe Emily. Two Dragon Ladies in one procession. Do you see?"

"Miranda," Andrea kept her voice low and as unstrained as possible, "I see a lot of people. As in, this is so much bigger and wider and more than I ever expected. Kind of hard to track the other stuff right now, but I believe you." She grimaced. "I should have expected paparazzi, I guess, but who knew? I mean, Alistaire, the elf I met earlier, did, but I didn't put it together until just now. Dragons have magazines."

The silver-haired dragon shot the younger woman an affectionate look and she patted the hand that looped around her arm. "Well, obviously. I have one."

Andrea shot her mate a delightfully scathing glance, which she then modified quickly. Miranda smirked. "Fine. I shall not tarry just to tease them with you. Let's go take our seats. When did you meet Alistaire?" Miranda gently steered them both through the double doors and down the auditorium stairs.

"When I was at the bar earlier. Why am I not surprised you know him or of him?"

"Because I know most famous people."

"Or you watch ..." Andrea opted not to blurt the rest of that thought. "Okay, you know many famous people."

The editor's smirk widened slightly. And then she said, "Fashion is influenced by many venues and influences many venues. Let it never be said that I am inflexible in my tastes. I may like my steak a particular way, but you know I enjoy variety."

Andrea promptly blushed and it took her a few minutes to gather her wits; just long enough that by the time they came to a row, where an usher nodded at their party, she had been distracted from those who ogled and watched them on their way. The usher led them to their table, where he held out the chair for Miranda, the obvious Head of the House.

The Dragon queen took the seat and sat back in it, completely comfortable and unruffled. Then she waited for the others of her party to be seated. Miranda decided to make a quick assessment of their surroundings. She let her gaze slide cross the room, but had to pause.

Her Lady was still trying to come up with a good reply, but she took her seat next to her mate with some grace. Her intent had been to take up the thread of the conversation, but then she noticed Miranda's gaze. "What?"

The editor cocked a brow and glanced at Andrea. "House DeVil. They are across and just a little down from us. Prestigiously aligned, of course." The words were cool, but her eyes were fire. A stranger might have thought of old feuds and blood in the water. Andrea thought of carnality.

She had known that Cruella was there. They both had. They could feel her. Andrea's intention had been to stay focused on the proceedings and she knew Miranda had been deliberately distracting her. Had the plan changed or was it more of a case of unavoidable perception? Andrea turned in her seat and let her attention glide in the general direction that her love had indicated. The exhale formed a perfect and very quiet, "Oh."

House DeVil would have been noticeable without Cruella. They positively stood out; but her Dragon most of all. She was beautiful, bordering on sinful. Andrea tightened her jaw against making another exclamation and reached for the glass of iced water that every seat had been assigned. She drew it to her lips, which she licked, and took a sip to quell the heat that formed in within her. Of course, it didn't really do anything.

She forced her eyes away from Cruella, suddenly curious about the family that claimed her. They reminded her a little of the Addams family, dark and dangerous. "Is that him?" She still held the drink in her hand and let her pinky make the motion, but knew that Miranda would know whether she'd pointed or not.

"Mm. Drakon." Miranda's sneer of distaste was genuine.

"Seems to me he's in the wrong seat. Shouldn't... the woman beside him..."

"Family politics. Not our concern."

As if knowing they knew they were being talked about, the two members of House De Vil turned their attention outward. Both smirked, both were gorgeous in their own way. Only one took Andrea's breath away when eye-contact was made and then broken with a searingly obvious dismissal. Cruella leaned in toward Drakon, whispered something in his ear that made him laugh even as he glared in Miranda's general direction.

She forced her hand not to tremble as she took another sip. "Oh. This is going to be fun," she said pensively.

She felt Miranda's hand alight on her thigh. Her nails stroked lightly over the surface of her slacks, on the inner thigh. This time Andrea's breath caught for a different reason. The Dragon turned toward her and caught the younger woman's eyes. She then, very deliberately leaned in and kissed Andrea, until the brunette was seeing stars and her mark was glowing and hot. Miranda's smile was smug as she drew back. "Oh yes. It is going to be."

Then the editor spoke over Andrea's shoulder. "Don't you think so Nigel?"

"A thrill a minute," he replied, with a teasing grin at the young brunette.

Andrea's blush only made her mark stand out brighter.

- TDWP -

Andrea's first thought, when she saw the King and Queen of Dragons walk in processional was, 'I thought they'd be older.' She knew, in theory, that a Dragon could appear to be almost any age, yet, somehow she'd thought the King and Queen would want the authority that looking a little older brought. They appeared, however, to be around her age and they were dressed in a business casual. Again, not quite what she was expecting. On the other hand, as she she stood with the rest of the Dragons and their Houses, it did not change that their entrance was definitely one to remember. They took the thrones, while their House took a whole lower tier and wrapped the full U of the auditorium. Authority figures, probably council-persons and those chosen few who would be making announcements or were part of the processional, took up seats placed on the dais on either side of the throne. Finally, a very old looking person, with a long, white beard and a halo of white hair, wearing a suit and a vestment of state, took a place just in front of the thrones. He stood facing the King and Queen and then, when everyone was at their position, bowed to the royals. Then he turned to everyone else and intoned, "Welcome, all. You may take your seats."

In short order, the whole of the auditorium settled into their various positions and readied themselves for the next few hours.

The elderly man said, "Your majesties, I bring to you tidings of your kingdom..."

Andrea recalled times sitting in at business conferences and meetings. She missed her notepad and thought briefly about running to get it. Fortunately, this was more interesting, if only because the information was all new to her. She wasn't the only one listening intently. She could see that Emily, like herself, was taking in every sight and sound and motion and... blushing. Andrea leaned over a little and saw that Serena was looking like the Dragon who ate the Lady, and she couldn't help the whimsical smile; she wasn't alone. She cocked a brow at the redhead who just noticed her. Andrea tipped her head just slightly in Miranda's direction, then grinned conspiratorially in a welcome-to-my-world kind of way.

Emily cracked a small smile, then sat back more and managed to look slightly bored, except for that color highlighting her cheeks.

Andrea knew she could never accomplish that, but she also knew that now that she and Miranda were out in the open, she had at least one Bond line she could play with.

Not that she would dare right just at the moment. Feeling a bit like a child in church, she settled back in her seat, letting her gaze curiously take in those at the front and was caught off guard. The Dragon Queen was looking directly at her. Andrea cast a glance back, unsure if that were really true, happening at that moment to turn in just the right direction to display Miranda's Mark for any who wanted to see it.

She turned back just in time to see a not so fleeting look of consternation and disbelief cross the Queen's face. Andrea had known this moment might come, but the intensity of the other Dragon's gaze dismayed her. The brunette reached out and she took Miranda's hand in a fierce grip. The solidity of her lover's touch stabilized that first reaction of fight or flight, which in this case had been leaning strongly toward flight. "I don't think she likes me."

"Nonsense," Miranda said and Andrea could swear she heard the smugness dripping like dollops of cream from her mate's tone. "To know you is to love you." She said it just loudly enough that the closest around them took a moment to glance at them both. Then, Andrea felt a burst of pleasure rush along their Bond, a reassuring caress along the mark. Miranda was in her element, confident in a way that no one could shake.

Andrea briefly turned to face her lover, then grinned. "Well, when you put it that way..." Then she returned her focus to the dais, and tried to appear interested in what the man was saying. She couldn't help peeking, though, at the royal couple and she noticed that they couldn't help glancing at her either. She wondered, more like pondered, whether these same youthful looking people were the ones who put the hit out on Miranda's family and what that meant now.

- TDWP -

Because Miranda had lived, her original House could not be officially annulled and the status only lowered, not deleted. Reinstatement into the upper levels of prestige was not entirely out of the question, but had been so unlikely as to seem impossible even just a handful of years ago. So she had been prepared to take the long road. She had even taken the effort to simply revamp and rename the House, in case. She had lost several old contracts and allies, but had gained some new ones. Some had stayed, had understood the necessities of bringing in a new banner. Renaming the House had afforded some protection, by letting certain agents assume that she had no interest in old business.

In that last Ball, she had been alone, with a handful of Elves who acted on her behalf. Her intent had been simply to shore up what she could and get on a more level playing field. She had thought herself not entirely bereft of higher House allies, until that day that House De Vil had turned upon her. Miranda owned that she had caused ruffled feathers, but by all reckonings of debt, that House should have stood with hers regardless. She wondered if Cruella was fully informed of the history between them, or if Drakon had managed to bury that as old news too.

It didn't matter. Cruella was hers. A part of Miranda was exceedingly gleeful about that and contemplating that the ruckus it would cause House De Vil was sure to provide hours of internal entertainment. The other part was thoughtful. The Bond made one think in terms of destiny and providence. Until that fateful day, when Cruella and she had first met, Miranda honestly had thought fortune was something one enacted upon another. Now she wondered, yet again, if that assumption held merit.

She began to think, as she watched her Bonded flirt with the enemy, that if it weren't for Drakon's mishandling of things, they would never have been parted. She might already have been where she belonged, small in House, but in the tier of her true rank. She and her Bonded might have had to enforce distance still, but they would not have had to deny it. She wouldn't have to watch this play that was making her blood steam and try to appear as if it didn't.

On the other hand, she would not be who she was, either; also something to ponder. Nor would she have been in place to meet Andrea. Her hand reflexively clasped her Lady's, gripping it warmly, but not too tightly, in an automatic act of affection. Perhaps things were working the way they ought. Certain recompenses were on their way, after all. Things put into motion could only be stalled so long.

She glanced down their row to their House legal team, caught their nod of readiness. Forms and procedures had already been pushed through or met. It wasn't a matter of if, this time. It was a matter of when and, honestly, she wasn't that worried about it any more. She had her House, recognized or not. She had her family, heirs and mate, relatives and relations. She didn't need a governing body's approval to tell her what was true. She had what was important.

She also knew that this made certain parties very uncomfortable. She wasn't sorry about that at all. She gazed out at the Royals who kept shooting looks in her and her mate's direction and let her eyes narrow and the smirk show. She was Miranda Priestly and, even if she wasn't in her rightful place, that alone meant something that none of them could touch.

- TDWP -


End file.
